Anemone

You stroke gently, with a strange and far away tenderness
You scrape the air like an automaton monkey-and-drum
You clutch at your skull like "the Scream"
You shake everything with uncontrolled ferocity
You wade through space like ocean floor sea weeds
You conduct your audience like a modern symphony
You swipe at my face with fearsome talons
You lunge at targets like a starving animal
You clench and grip with your sanity at stake
You grasp at phantoms in the aether
You sift through every moment, collecting
You swing wildly, painting dramatic arcs
You cling, dimpled, reverent yet fearless
You rest only in sleep or in unknown prayers
You sink those swaying anemones into my soul

I will take these hands into my own, and hold them
Then let them go to shape nations, sculpt hearts

For Ishmael, written 2/8/13 {photo}