Sunday, 19 January 2014

Untouchable?

Touchable

You are afraid to touch me,
You think I am untouchable,
But I am touchable,
And I could be loved.

Pink sores grow on my skin.
Soon I have no nerves
I feel no pain in my fingers and toes;
Pain would be a gift.

No one will touch me, but I long to be touched.
I could not feel your loving hands, but I could feel your love.

My face is blistered, my eyes widen.
I cannot blink, soon I become blind.

Without feeling I feel pain,
Without feeling everything feels the same:

Cracked feet on sand or broken glass,
withered hands on a rose or a scorpion’s tail.
Hands, that ring the warning bell as others pass.

I sit unable to move or speak,
My body: chapped and cracked and weak.
I am sent outside the city
So no one will touch me.

One man has touched me,
Even though I could not feel his hand,
I could feel his love.

BK

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