A Great Big Unseen Pointed Finger

The difference in saying you, a great big unseen pointed finger, or we. I didn’t know. Some figurines wave while others scrutinize with wizened eyes. The analytic panics, hairs raised by static. The simple leans in to catch butterflies. One is cynical. The other sensuous. One slaps your hand away. One squeezes it. Personality like the word itself broken in pieces, a flotilla. In the storm the words like jigsaw waves. In placidity, the sun’s too hot or doldrum’s ebb and flow. We will make it! Still, even in this exchange, coarse sand, a castle with a moat. Your motives sought - there I go again “Y O U R…” Sisterly size-up. Am I trying to win? I didn’t know we were preparing to arm wrestle. I’m unshaped, neither the flat piece of a puzzle or linked. The dreamy sky from the beach. Salt in the air, eyes on the horizon, lap of the waves — the same lift I feel when swinging high and higher. The excitement of adventure, no one’s judging my every word. I’m breathless…it’s breathtaking when my feet float above the ground. There I’m in the arms of love. There I point and God answers with his digit reaching out, touching mine. I am reborn by the finger of God. We will make it! 12/19/2020