We have had enough words here
Let’s put our cards on the table
Enough of all these things we speak
Let’s see if we truly are able
All these words – so many things said
But what if we got up and did
Instead of just speaking hollow things
And with our hands and feet proved it?
Stop telling me who you are
Walk ahead and show me instead
Enough theories – let’s put them to the test
Who knows how far off we are from death
Enough with words. Let our actions speak
Of so many words, my ears have grown weary
I need something more on which to live
Sustain me with action lest I pass on early
Sitting in a high chair,
Eyes closed –
Lean back, breathe in
As the towel around my shoulder folds.
My hairdresser looks in the mirror
Glassy blue eyes
With shaky hands –
They swear he is high.
Most people they fear him
His shaking hands
They break their nerves.
He’s an unstable man.
Like them quivering hands
They can’t trust
Of scissors that rust.
Fearful if he slips
If those shaking hands fail
That will be unveiled.
I lean back, snip, snip
I have faith
In those shaky hands
A confidence you can’t take.
Those glassy blue eyes
His shaky hands
Story behind the poem:
Written in memory of someone who use to be my hairdresser. He had hands that shook something terrible.