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From reaching for the stars
our arms ache.
From holding out hope in the face of life,
our arms ache.
From craving the unattainable (no matter how
reasonable we imagine our request to be),
our arms ache.
Better they should ache
from enfolding the lonely.
from holding in a long hug each morning
the one we love.
from soothing strokes to a child's brow—or anyone's.
from carrying bags of food to those
who were without it.
from pushing, for as long as she wants, the child
soaring on a swing.
from enclosing through the night the infant
who cannot yet assimilate to an earthly life.
So what is the bottom line here?
Stop reaching for the endless wants that multiply
even as they are fulfilled.
Find new uses for those outstretched arms.
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