---

Kenneth Wood

His Hand To Mine

I walked upon strangers in a strange gathering
Blank-eyed and mirroring those beside
They threw angry words from dry mouths

And white-knuckled fists spoke thunder
I glimpsed a child caught in the middle
Struggling to break free from this human cage

His stare bore into me
Within his eyes was a fierce fire
A fire reflecting and burning, too, within me

My presence brought a shamed silence to the crowd
The child now spoke in a voice of wisdom
To the blank stares, angry words and clenched fists

And with an accusatory finger, he said, Lies, real lies...
He then walked to me and touched his hand to mine
And quietly whispered, You see with real eyes...

Above the skies roiled and exploded with rain
The fire within burned brighter as he screamed,
Realize...truth-you cannot always see