A Steady Hand

- ellie

A child grasping,
Feeling only open air,
Until an enveloping clasp recovers her,
The flesh of hope pulls her back.

The palm is indistinguishable,
But the child holds on,
Feeling the brown dirt of security beneath her feet,
Droplets of gratefulness and relief gushing from her eyes.

A tale of humanity,
But spinning the globe,
The blur of moving pictures is dripping with blood,
While the eyes of children absorb the painful news.

As the child who longed for a steadfast grip,
The watching children also reach with their hears,
For a world where happiness grows in prosperity like golden wheat,
Despair uprooted like the tangled weeds.

Will the children continue to watch the pictures?
Or can the nations join in unity,
For love, hope acceptance, freedom, and peace,
So that for every child there is a steady hand.