Waiting Hands

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Reading so much hope
In so much less,
You are warriors of dark
Fighting for light.
I wish you weren’t
A mere statue of pity
For comments pithy,
Forgotten like people often
Forget things unimportant.
I have never known,
I might have known;
But the back of my head
Never comes to my front,
That your world is so tiny,
Like people without hearts,
And your only pastime is to wait
At the door looking for tarts.
Your waiting hands,
With nothing in them,
Not even a single line of fate,
Makes me want to write
And fill what of our world
You lot have been deprived.
A thousand fingers fail to touch
A million waiting dreams.
There’s not much to our world
If we don’t take a piece of our heart
And feed it raw,
Without expecting a return –
There’s none,
In a place that has nothing to offer.

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