Touch

My fingers around the steering wheel in summer.
The pressure from the seat belt across my shoulder, against my chest and waist.
The numbing volume as I drive beneath the sounds of outdoor living.

My grasp on the shopping cart handle.
Cradling bread, its weight unchanged.
Tomatoes and apples fit in my palm,
but I'm ever so suspicious of their honesty.
 
In the fall, the warmth inside my clothes.
Heated caffeine coating my throat.
Hot blood in my feet.
 
The sensitive mind as the heart interprets pain.
And when touch isn’t there, I am thankful for the tears.

Thankful for how they softly caress my trembling face,
and I can almost feel a loving hand rest upon my shoulder.
 
Feeling the frustration in my first significant scream
as I release it from my lungs.
 
Finally, something long buried is allowed to breathe.




About the Author: It was during her first year of high school when Jada Yee was introduced to poetry. It quickly became a soulful passion and therapeutic tool. Although her writing resume includes only a small handful of modest publications, the greatest reward has always been the creative process; the “high” that comes from filling a blank page. Jada has been fortunate enough to share her work with a supportive audience of friends and family. Some of her poems have been published in high school and college magazines, Poetry Now, Crack the Spine, and California’s Spring 2004 anthology, “Celebrate! Young Poets Speak Out.”