Take My Hand

We dream of hands that find our own,

When shadows stretch, when winds have grown.

We want a voice that softly stands,

Beside us in the ghost-wrung lands.

We speak of battles, fierce and deep,

Of scars we bear, of nights we weep.

And hope, how quiet, shines so grand:

That someone brave will take our hand.

Yet when we see another bleed,

Their monsters raw, their aching need

We turn away, or say, “Be strong,”

Or pass them by to hum our song.

It’s easy, love, to wish for light

When you are trapped in endless night.

Much harder still, to strike a flame

For someone else who feels the same.

The truth is this: we’re all afraid,

And all alone, though smiles are made.

We ache for someone who will stay

But fear the cost of walking their way.

So if you seek a hand to hold,

Be first to brave the dark and cold.

For though the world feels cruel and wide,

The monsters shrink when fought beside.