Thoughts Have Hands

The sense of being overwhelmed

dawns on me slowly,

An emotional iceberg submerged 

In the ocean, 

breeches the hull,

floods my thick skull.

A foreign power drowns all resistance,

points icy fingers at hidden weakness, 

Overwhelms what’s left of a fragile peace.

I run for a life boat, find only one, 

            taste salt on my tongue,

wonder how this mountain of ice

cracked 

      open my head.

With fears growing, I struggle on board, 

launch in the dark,

reeling in shame.

Identity drowns under obligations 

anchored by numerous expectations,

the fast, cold current, pulls me under,

washes away remnants of self.

Surprised by emotions I didn’t see coming.

Angered by threats of personal destruction,

Disappointed by empathy held in suspense,

Wrapped in a fantasy of the ultimate fixer, 

I work without tools.

Sadness overwhelms actions long put off.

Hurt petrifies self-defense. 

I dive into places unsafe to inhabit.

I live for comfort, seek easy answers. Now,

trapped in freezing waters I plea for help.

I sit with memories of sailing freely,

Veiled in doubt.

Words don’t answer, seem unreliable.

I dig at scabs covering my heart 

Obtain brief relief from what seeps out.

Bleeding – a temporary distraction,

healing illusory, I 

Sleep without dreaming.

Float in starless seas, 

as images surface prescribing new meaning,

I wake to check signs of continued breathing. 

Overdone

Overdosed on what may come,

Overwhelmed by too many tasks 

and sinking fast.

THH

7/15/25

Revised 7/16/25

Firing neurons 

                Drum up words

                           for my ears,

Blast colorful images

               before my eyes,

Send messages 

from unfathomed spaces,

posted for serious contemplation.

Plentiful potential.

Thoughts unthought 

                    emerge from untraceable sources,

Ignite spontaneous conflagrations and 

disguised recognition.

         Emotional fireworks shock then fade.  

Leave open questions. 

    Circle their wagons around my brain.

What do I want?  What am I doing?

Who am I really? 

‘Know yourself’, the philosopher demanded.

An easy question, difficult to answer.

My daemon speaks riddles,

Imagines narrating long absurd dramas

 for cheap entertainment, 

        as likely destructive as creative.

Indigestible data produce ulcers,

demand I take names, 

                 drown answers,

I’m not this, not that.

Competing desires juggle for position; spurs chameleon-like shopping at global malls 

full of glitz and heavy with suspicion; a dangerous place to seek clarifications or discover essentials.

Emotional wildfires melt icy order.

With so much chaos 

the heart trembles and cautiously deciphers

low risk prospects for continued living.

 The peace sought 

        strangled by rivalrous gangs 

                    hyping misinformation,

a spectacle for people milling the streets,

happy to celebrate another’s defeat.

Shake nervous heads at claims of authenticity, 

laugh at believing in self-understanding,

wave flags in support of stagnant 

traditions for easy consumption.

Refuse to settle for collective praises 

             from well paid judges,

                    lording over unfit decisions.

Identity must wrestle powerful forces 

               to secure a blessing, and

                                Compel a true name. 

Better the never-ending match 

                                   engaged until dawn,

than to carry an identity blurred by tears,

Despoiling the remains of once sacred spaces.

THH

7/19/25

Some wounds strike deep, 

tumble over event horizons

beyond all chance for healing. 

Beating hearts sullied by shame, 

hidden in black holes, void of true light.

Starved for love, 

Abandoned hearts settle for crumbs 

of personal attention,

beg for an instance of recognition. 

Desperate hearts dream mythic dragons

to gorge on feint praise, from disreputable demons.

Dying to matter,

hungry for touch, 

clinging to wishes,

the wounded crossover 

full of envy, 

absent gladness.

All humans travel in gravity’s grace, 

through galaxies of emotion, 

but abandoned hearts, full of protest, 

blinded by fears of continued rejection, 

abandon empathy.

Anxiety unquenched, 

living in a personal wilderness 

with shape shifting fantasies, 

and outlandish lies to believe, 

an unwholesome brew of disordered capacity.

Their suppressed emotions,

banned from expression by armies of reason, 

defend arrogant belief, and lost in grief 

fail to observe the looming horizon.

That whirlwind of confusion and

infernal silence, 

tearing weary bones asunder,

with icy indifference, 

sucked dry of lifeblood’s sweetest marrow.

THH

6/25/25 (revised 6/30)

Darkness obscures sunlight,

as clouds shade doleful eyes, 

cast an impenetrable veil, 

between then and now.

Anguish slithers up my neck,

Wraps my brain’s fiery resistance

In a rawhide grip 

Destroys my peace.

Now sorrow dawns every morning,

as the sun crawls over thickening clouds,

Rains grief

outside my screen door.

Loss arrives uninvited. 

Unpacked its bags,

Grabbed my heart like a new slave owner

Declared itself master.

Says hello with a grizzly grin,

Walks right in,

playing the part of an old friend,

teaches hard lessons in the art of farewell.

Cracks the whip,

Leaves me begging for tenderness.

Finding none,

a lifetime of mourning loss may pass

before I shed my tears and find release.

THH

4/28/25

Revised 7/10/25

Revised 7/16/25

The enemy has no face

But plenty of time to invent many.

Full of techniques to manufacture dreams 

Ready to dazzle with newly branded identities, 

Then sell the difference.

Why buy the marketing?

The power to switch on

The person you are

Originates within.

Sit in stillness 

Look at yourself

Add no spice or seasoning. 

Be a mirror for your deepest feelings,

Mix your personal dust with fresh living water,

Shape for yourself an original face.

THH

7/14/24

Wounds can go deeper than any black hole, a bottomless pit where no light escapes.

The wounded cross event horizons full of envy, absent contentment.

Starved for love, feeling no one understands, 

then settle for crumbs of personal attention, bask in the glitter of faintest praise and 

shine like a cherub with every sign of recognition. 

Desperate empty hearts chase mythic dragons of hope through neurons of mental space. 

Fire breathing dragons of uncontrolled desires, gorge on nods of attention and smiles in their direction.

Unable to quench growing anxiety, they fail to notice the event horizon; their marrow sucked from now charred bones, shredded in time.

So many galaxies of pent up emotion 

whirl through interior space 

to die in entropy, 

unable to trust order in swirling chaos 

or the presence of empathy.

THH

6/25/25

Child of five stands outside

His first grade class.

His mother leaves him at the door,

full on frustration,

She marches to her car,

drives on her way. 

Eyes stormy with tears

stare after —

Stomach hollow,

Heart skips a beat in disbelief,

Suddenly a shriek

of monstrous exclamation.

Left on his own to face education,

by strange sharp faces;

Sentenced to the power of year twenty five,

dispensed with no sign of maternal compassion;

the harsh pain of separation multiplied

by a terrified child’s active imagination. 

THH

6/10/25

Clouds hide blue skies from earth’s crust.

A red-tail hawk flaps wings in desperate retreat from angry sparrows.

Passion rules pretense, size makes no difference.

THH

7/17/25 revised

A moment of joy

Lifts a solemn spirit, 

A moment of pain

Gashes the skin,

Wholly gratuitous.

A period of boredom 

Begins to feel normal, then

Rare pleasures disrupt your routine with a new witness.

Another brief maybe  

Arrangements of dominoes in perfect order, planned to fall as imagined.

Causes with no demerit to explain a story. 

One follows after another,

a toss of a coin, or roll of the dice.

Results unpredictable.

Happy and sad, 

Glad and mad come as they may;

Throwing seven comes eleven or

Snake eyes for an unhappy groan. 

Odds and evens, 

day after day christen misfortune, 

Bear-boned baptism by raw emotion 

Cause misunderstanding of what’s happening.

Out of the depths

Life surprises;

Abruptly awakened,

A newborn gasps for air and

Begs for more; a sudden dependence becomes so urgent,

A rant addressed to nature

Needs attention to keep on living.

When learning to walk, legs turn first to rubber, then muscle to maintain balance, as you pretend independence. 

Experience crawls out of the darkness blinded by sunlight,

Uncertainty stunts intention.

In the wiles of nature, 

Expectations grow too tall, and fall over. 

Habits worn easily reduced by fate to a yesterday.

Love sings a siren song,

Strings you along, 

Fills your sails with warm summer breezes,

Propels your boat by her mysterious wind, but once out to sea leaves you in doldrums.

Children raised through fearful days with shouts of rage, or chants of praise head out the door to find their own ways.

Rarely follow cherished calculations.

Standing at the door watching them go, excited for adventures, you think – what’s next?  Contemplate highs, reasons for caring and mull the lows, hope for smooth sailing but know better.

 Joyful anticipation smothered by strains of obligations suddenly take control by the harshest of laws, as you look for a handle to open the door. 

Mixed emotions wash red eyes, sad for endings, the lost and broken;

Cleansed in the present you may 

See new directions,

Engage attention, 

Ignite a passion.

Another chance, another maybe

Wistful for time to celebrate best of intentions you find : 

Nothing is necessary, only apparent. 

Nothing is certain, just poorly remembered, or badly written:

All narrative an effort to preserve sacred order in whims of the mind.

A glass half empty is never full

A glass half full never empty, 

The difference a geometry of appreciation 

Hidden in space 

contained in maybe.

No one knows what comes next.

Every moment is all that’s granted.

To ride the roller coaster be ready for surprises and heavy breathing. 

For all lives are nothing but a gratuitous maybe. 

THH

5/31/25

On a rainy evening last Tuesday I left an early supper with good friends to return home.  After a long day handling dry legalities imposed by the recent death of my sister, I was tired.  The sun was setting, yellow gray light warned of rain and drops pelted my shirt as I walked down the steep hill to the parking garage.

Near the bottom of the hill I noticed people ahead of me abruptly cross from my side of the street to the other.  I followed suite.  But as I continued my descent I became painfully aware of the reason for the change of course.  A man in his wheelchair blocked passage as he held onto a light post.  He struggled to keep his chair under him and not roll back.  He was making no progress.  In an act of self justification, I called to him asking the obvious. ‘Do you need help?’ He responded with a yes that reminded of a groan.  So committed, I crossed over. 

The guy had pushed himself one-third of the way up the incline.  It was a valiant effort. I was amazed he had made it so far on his own.  Exhausted by his efforts he held onto the street lamp.  A bag of possessions slipped from his shoulder, his shirt torn and dirty. A tall thin dude, he sprawled across the sidewalk; he juggled for leverage but made no progress.  He spoke, but I couldn’t catch his meaning between my poor hearing and his slurred speech.  His lower lip seemed unhinged from his mouth as he talked.  

The only way to get him up the hill was to turn his rolling chair around and pull it up.  He kept showering words at me by way of explanation or thank you, as I tugged at the handle and he shuffled his feet.  Too tall for the chair and unable to stand or walk, he sat and I backed our way awkwardly up to the corner of Gay Street. 

The guy had a half broken umbrella but couldn’t use it and push himself up at the same time. He faced away from me as I inched my way up the hill. 

I caught only the side of his face. I noticed his malformed lip. It looked like his lower lip was separated from his mouth, but I saw no sign of bleeding.  I asked if he was ok and he pointed to the other corner so I wheeled him over to a flat surface on the sidewalk at the prescribed corner.  Then wished him well and proceeded quickly down to the garage.  

The rain kept threatening to unload and I had no umbrella. I wanted to get home.  I realized on my drive home I was a bit self satisfied for going out of my way. But I had failed to ask his name. I didn’t look him in the eye. I made no attempt to know him.  He was a good deed half done.

I wonder what I would have seen if I taken a moment to look at him and meet his eyes.  What would his visage reveal ? What might I have learned if I had leaned into his impoverished humanity, if I had taken a minute longer to greet him person to person.

Performing good deeds is a fine way to celebrate humanity.  But the performance can be only an act, a cold obligation to satisfy an ego.

It takes face to face encounters to make human connection. Unfortunately I missed a chance.  In my hurry I failed to acknowledge him as a person.  I left him alone only a little safer than I found him.  Sadly, life moves too fast and we reduce interactions to transactions.  We lose the sense of wonder in making connections, make little time to meet, and hold no space to be present with another human face.

What did I see between me and the person I didn’t see.  I had power.  I had control.  He had little to done.

‘ Hello to the lenses (of power) through which I peer, seeing more of my self than I do of my subject’  Padraig O’Tauma points to our idea of others carried in our minds eye filtering our understanding of the people we chance to meet.

THH

5/16/25