Only Grasped Lightly

Writer’s Island prompt 11 – 
 “SLIPPED THROUGH MY FINGERS”.

So much has slipped
through my fingers
that couldn’t grip
as tightly as I wished
them to. Held loosely,
many fell to ground
without a sound, some
forgotten in haste to find
better place to be in.

Theirs, or mine?

And does it matter
if a few shattered where
they landed, leaving only
stranded pieces of what
might have been, but wasn’t
meant to be?

So much more held
on these pages, stories
told in bits and phrases,
poems sung and letters
written in bolder ink
that sinks into fabric
of existence, leaving a stain
that remains, like dark sin
on white soul that nuns
spoke of long ago, when
I was a child.

Pain is a lesson which helps
to remember that grasping
hands are closed to anything
being offered, can not
unfold or receive what might
be given, and living is too
short to spend bent back
toward past, trying to mend
what was never intended.

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