two hands

i fumble for truth
about to overbalance
trying to accommodate
myself, and the whole

i fumble for hope
thirsty for righteousness
aware of my own
weakness, and the poverty
of others.

i fumble for direction
blinded by the technicolour:
the red-black of my
weariness, and the vividness
of their pain.

i fumble for you
my life-breath, my heart-strength
the one who will not
let me break, or remain

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