For the thousandth time,

Wet hands cupping a colder cheek

And not yet the blade by the bearers back,

Which fills with an utterly stained want

The tighter this bewitched palm strangles

I blow,

I blow harder again as I had,

Releasing the cracked skin from

A sickening grip,

And stop just as my fingers reach

Within a small gap of empty, lifeless air,

To stare

_To make alive, some empty shell?_

A sound so laughable,

Yet I’ll see for my own

How little this palm is

Against all the odds, under the smiles

Of the gods

Oh lord, I’ll say,

That to bring about my fate

My sister and mother, too,

Will turn acrid one day

But not even to spare my own grace,

Can I let this one go

I saw that I’d brought about

A newer life!

That my pumping was purposeful,

And I finally shared a hand

To do what I’ve always wanted to do-

To save someone,

To pull them from outside

So that the sun could reach their eyes again

Yet it’s as I say,

Those somber eyes did not open

No breath passed those purple lips

And eventually I heard

A lapping sea through the thumping of my chest

Lord knows I’ve tried my hardest,

But I’m not blind