Who can placate
the turmoil
the restlessness
the ennui
and the frustration
but your smile
that comes
gelled with
belonging
and your deft touches
that work like
brush strokes
on wounds
that fester
and bleed.
That you
smiled again
basking
a glory
so fine
healing is
complete
and work is done
let us firmly
grip each other’s palms
feeling skin touch
establishing
collaboration
in this struggle
called life !
ps: after reading this poem one of my mates tried close holding of palms with his girlfriend. He reported that she had one of the worst ever clammy and soggy palms and all the while she held his he felt as if she had spat on her palms for 30 minutes before rubbing the spit on his. He further said after such gripping of palms all his desire to live expired and that more intense was his desire to wash his hands with antiseptic and that he would rather not try palm therapy again…lol
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