by Rose Marsh
I often want to take humanity's hand
and lead it
like a child to some place better.
But I am a child myself
and no one is holding my hands.
I have no eyes
and I'm lost in the woods that
were once my home.
I'm walking under pine trees. I smell
them and the sap sticks to my bare toes.
The animals hide from me.
I only hear my feet in the leaves.
Where are the hands to lead me out?
Is there somewhere to be led?
I'm alone and forsaken,
my own lack of faith condemning me.
I sit down, bruised, and with my hands outstretched.
I don't believe
but prove me wrong.
I'd wait forever to be made wrong.
My arms are tired. My hands are sore.
I won't put them down.
Make me wrong.
Lead me out.
I am only a child after all.