by Audrey Weibell

I.

The hands that now grip so painfully

had once seemed soft.

They blocked the things

you’d rather not see

like horse blinders

keeping your focus on what matters. 

You trusted the hands.

They pointed to your shortcomings,

problems your useless eyes 

wouldn’t see. The hands 

helped you succeed.

Sight. Seeing.

Protection. Warning.

Enlightenment. Guiding.

But then

one day

the hands

turned from sweet to firm.

Direct.

Controlling.

Harsh.

Colors, shapes and 

movement waned.

I am

trapped.

Trapped!

TRAPPED!

Stuck

with nowhere to go.

No way to find

any peace of mind.

Blinded

by the looming hands.

You don’t know what

or why.

Don’t have the strength

to pry them open

from your eyes.

No sight. Can’t see.

No protection. No Warning.

No enlightenment. No Guidance.

Their toxic stench 

burns the oxygen in your head

leaving fearful thoughts to fester.

“We’re not going anywhere,” they say.

“You invited us. Remember?”

Stumbling.

Falling.

Tripping.

Crying. 

Dying.

Stuck.

Stuck!

STUCK!

MAKE IT STOP.

Please make it stop.

“You know we can’t

do that,” they say.

Scattered thoughts.

Short attention span.

Chaos.

Am I insane?

Are the hands still there

or am I blind.

Blind!

BLIND!

The hands that now grip

so painfully had once seemed soft.

Their deception,

comforting.

The cage that traps you,

secure.

How long will you feel

your way around the dark?

Lash.

Tear.

The scars don’t fade

no matter how badly

you want them to.

“You asked for them,” they say.

And it’s true.

You willingly chose them.

Permitted them

to blind you.

“There, there,” they say.

“I’ll make the pain

go away.”

“I’ll cover your ears

so you can’t hear.”

“Cover your mouth

so you can’t scream.”

“Cover your heart

so you can’t feel.”

“Cover your soul so

that your body can carry

you without that 

extra weight.”

Cold, sweaty,

bony hands.

Scream.

Scream!

SCREAM!

while you still can.

AHHHHHHHHH!

Aughhhhhhhhh!

EEEEEEEEE!

II.

Judgmental looks bore

through your skin. 

Whispers loud as shouting.

“Nothing’s wrong,”

they say.

And they’re right.

The world’s not ending,

only yours is. 

“You make such a big deal

out of everything.”

All because of a pair

of hands

that no one can see

except you

and me.

♠ ♣ ♥ ♦