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The Watch on my hand

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Below is the poem entitled The Watch on my hand which was written by poet Samir Georges. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Watch on my hand

Time holds my hand
as I struggle with the vision before me
and the vision before me
is all I see of my life
and what I see, rages in scenes I can barely decipher
struggling to make sense
of the bitter pang that stings my eyes
with every scene, and I blink often
-I blink often, and I miss yet more scenes
and it waters my eyes, but the sting lands deeper;

I close my eyes and breathe deep
wanting to lean on, my only trustee
oh tick tick, timeless as you are
tick tick tock, the clock 
that weighs down my arm,
your grip surprisingly light, considering…

-but something about the gentleness of its weight, such a charm
though, I confess, I wish nothing more than to lean on that weight
I wish that it manifests a wise sage
Someone I could lean on
Timeless, steady, not weathered with age.

Still, I must make due
Just hold my hand you jaded creature
and with your fickle touch teach me something new
teach me that everything is growth
teach me that every time this vision is not sweet
and its bitterness seeps through my senses
and this feeling of weakness and regret
that inflicts me, as I watch my life, as I watch every life
teach me, that with every prick and bruise
every miss and glance
I grow
And your grip on my wrist tightens
And I look at you damningly
And I see you have not grown, your weight is the same
a gentle pressure, no more
but you tighten yet, when the stubble on my face grows
and the pits beneath my eyes deepen 
at the very sights I live,
 
now I glance at you not with accusation
but beseechingly 
loosen I beg, with my eyes
that have seen a life flit past
but even then you tighten more
and there I stand hand in hand with my only friend
learning that with every moments regret
and with every look cast out
I grow, and the hand tightens on my own
because my hand has grown so big
but yours still so small
and as only the truest friend
you hold on still:

as the pressure mounts
the feeling swells, I grow more
and I know there comes the time when I will feel my hand no more
and I would have grown all that I could grow
but you’d hold my hand till then
hold it through every moment that I live
so you teach me, my friend
that I am growing, and that every chance I miss and moment I fail
is not a wasted moment, or a foul moment
it is a moment I have spent holding hands with you
and I cherish it for tick tick comes the time
when we will hold hands no more
and I know then I will miss you friend

just forgive me, if I look at you accusingly again
saying with my eyes
that we should be embracing, that we should take these moments we have
and forsake the distance between us
yet would I be saying this friend, had it not been for your gentle
lightly weighted touch?
Would I so want to hold you, had you weighed me down since the start
Or held me close all this time?
Would I be so grown, so loving of you?

No. I will grow like this, with but your gentle touch
and when it comes my time, and I feel your clasp no more
I will know then
that what I wanted all along
was but your touch
and to know you were there
With me all along. 

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