An Open Fist

My fist is clenched,
knuckles white, palms red,
and it's clear that I'm holding on.
Because if I don't,
I'll lose you to the wind,
lose you to the rain.

I'm tired,
of the give and the take,
the give and the take take take,
so I will keep you hidden,
from the One who always sees,
from a God who always sees.

And we sit and cry
as if the end has already come,
as if the wind and the rain have won,
but we've yet to step outside.
We compare, contrast, categorize,
making sense where there is none.

Our incapable hands,
will be chaffed and bruised
if we continue this foolishness.
And as much as my heart
wants to keep you tucked away,
I know if I do, I'll lose you indefinitely.

So stand with me,
and raise your hands.