An inspirational poem and a childhood memory, a lesson in life, a truth about life - we are not as helpless as we think ... sometimes ...

Our Hands

Break on through
to the other side
was a wild ride,
a fine ride
to a place that was a time
to time that was mine,
a gold mine in the mountains
of my home, where all alone
I once did walk
amongst the weeds and flowers,
amongst the fields and quarries,
dusty long mid summer days
and summer storms -
rain fell so violently,
it washed the road away.

It left a landscape
of rivers and torrents,
of waterfalls and little islands,
my world, my worlds, my hands,
they moved the boulders,
moved the mountains
and here were never small at all.

And ever since this time,
I yearned for rain
to wash away the roads again,
to touch me cold and clear, awake me
speak the truth in my sensations,
speak the truth sensationally:

Yes, a world is here
and it is yours and mine,
Im not quite sure the way it works,
when one or more reach out to touch
the world and feel it there,
and yes, the water can move mountains,
but so can we, it's true,
our hands were never
small at all.

SFX May 2010