Nothing To Give

Artwork by~ Kenneth Jackson; Digital, 2013, Photography "Wild"

Nothing To Give

The day before had been a spring teaser of streaming sunlight

and had it not been for the cool shadows,
and faint, lingering smell of snow,

March would have seemed a distant memory

My cold fingers, hidden beneath gloves, twitched in agitation

I wanted to throw open the door of every stall

but they were not mine to set free

and how many times would I have to apologize
for something that was not mine

Shrinking into my coat, I suddenly felt inadequate and afraid

I wished for your voice...

 All that I had to do was reach out and touch

The first horse ducked his head away from me

so I dropped my arm limply back to my side

feeling the back of my throat constricting.

I continued to smile and make conversation

but I hated myself at that moment for every failure

and the hate moved me forward to the next stall

I was only alive while feeling the pain of rejection

and one by one, I walked...

stroking silken noses, bristly fur

They all wanted treats, or to be let out,

and I had nothing to give

I wished for your voice

but I have nothing to give...

Angela Minard 2014©