How real the connection seems
When first offering your outstretched hand,
But I quickly lose touch with it
As it shows a different brand
And of race.
Are we all that different?
I think not.
When we try to lose ourselves
In that thick, gray fog.
That life brings us when we try to open
Ourselves to one another,
Frightened by half truths of contention,
Hoping to escape the piercing stare of our brother
Or our daughter,
Or our friend
Or our lover.
But the fog is thick and only lifts
When the outstretched hands connect,
To bring us up from choking feelings
Of rejection and help heal souls bereft
Or of love.