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Grasping Hope

See my pain.

Watch my tears.

Know my heart breaks,

A life lived in fear.

I scream for attention.

Cry to be acknowledged.

A voice pitifully dull,

Amongst a crowd,

Amongst my own thoughts,

Desperately longing to be heard aloud.

Reaching for a hand.

Grasping for hope.

Anything solid, tangible, without doubt.

Anything to give meaning enough to cope.

Awaiting a solitary moment in which to catch my breath.

Resuming a vein search for home.

That I may be grounded, tethered and secure,

In the safety of someone’s tender care,

Forever to be seen, wanted and warm,

Safe from impending despair.

© 2021 Alana Bembridge

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