Holding You

There’s not much that I’m afraid of but those things that do cause me pause are the big things, the things that do more than go bump in the night. The fear of failure, commitment, public speaking. The fear of opening up and becoming vulnerable. Fear of abandonment. Fears that allow the rest of me to appear fearless, reckless, confident, brave. Often I feel like I’m walking a tightrope of identity with this long net stretching out below me of who you all want me to be.

And whispers, “fall, fall, fall.”

I don’t often do poetry and I have as of yet never recorded myself in spoken word but lately I’ve been inspired to do more, try more, push myself. I’m scared, and someone once said that’s how you know you’re moving in the right direction.

So, here it is. Be kind.

Holding You by Lindsay Rainingbird

[edit: in print as requested]

I told you I’d hold you

but I only meant in words


the language we don’t have

the search and you

the taste of every ill-placed comma

the way you were

only ever just—there

on the tip of my tongue.

How we reach outstretched

to fill up the blank spaces

to make the H

stay silent

to find a way to explain

describe this

giant abyss this

crack in communication

that we tiptoe around.

I said I’d hold you but

I meant in the palm of my hand


like a robin’s egg

still warm and heavy with life


How a hand closed

becomes a fist

(how a fist is a measure of the heart)

how our hearts were clenched

too tight, our fingers locked

our love arrested.



12 thoughts on “Holding You”

  1. I thought that it was fantastic, both the reading of it and the written word. You are seriously talented. Thank you for sharing this, and I hope that there is more to come.


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