June 6, 2012
By Emily Ford SILVER, Bellingham, Washington
Emily Ford SILVER, Bellingham, Washington
7 articles 0 photos 0 comments

My hand grasps at nothing
As I tumble down into my hole of giving up
I can still see the faces,
Still hear the voices
That worries at me

As I fall, I glance up
Light is suddenly visible
Brighter than the sun
So pure, so luminescent
A hand reaches down
And pulls me up

My worries drop
The majestic hand safely secures me
This hand protects me,
Brightens me
His is the one who keeps me from falling again

The author's comments:
This poem can mean so many different things for everyone, for me, it was spiritual and something I wrote after my Grandpa's death. This meant a lot to me to write, and I hope everyone can find that in this poem.

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