And day and night, I think about her, though I cannot reach out my hand.
My heart bleeds while it beats and so I remain paralyzed.
The safety of life's constraints, the unexercised options which keep us free.
But when the wind blows, I feel her fingers through my hair and fantasize of long awaited rest.
Within a single touch, I melt together the memories of a loving mother, a compassionate sister and a joyful daughter.
The power overrides me, persuading me.
The forbidden fruit, the sin itself, displays my weakness, my dependency, my vulnerability.
And opens my heart to display the void, for which my only defense is the sensation of a deep sorrow.
<SI> Scott Izu, PhD
© October 2014