Poetry for the Young Adult

Grip

Even if you decide 

To loosen your grip 

On my delicate fingertips 

I refuse to let myself sway 

With the uncertainty 

Or tear at the seams 

Until I slowly unravel 

Because losing your grip 

Does not mean 

That I will lose mine 

And this is how I know 

I will be okay

Stars

Fingers reaching for a cloud 

They tell us to aim for the stars 

Hands drenched in a cool mist 

We claw away at nothing 

Desperation breaks the stillness

We will never touch the stars 

When we can’t even grip the sky 

By its baby blue cloth 

And pull it over our bodies 

A wet security blanket

• Augustana College
• poetry