Holding On

Holding On

To hold on,

To some it is a statement.
To others they are words,
Meaningless in nature.
Yet to some,

It is a horrible set of words to say.
Not because they harm someone,
Well not directly at least.
Neither for their tone with which they can be said,
But for their implied meaning,
And the tone for which the implied is said.

To tell someone to hold on,
Hurts the tongue that bares them.
For they know of some of pain and distress the recipient feels.
They fear for them,

Realising unpredictability is norm.
They wonder,

What will happen next?

How long can they stay strong?

Can I do something?

But worse yet,

Will they?

Could they?

Do they plan to?

This ever wondering,

Causes that tongue to fret.

To stress,

To worry,

And to fear.

And yet the person of those few words,

Hurts for the hurt they have caused.

They pain for pain created,

Cut for the invisible wounds they cause,

And try to hold on for others.

For they have lost that critical feeling.
That life is beautiful,
And the birds and bees pretty things.
That life is joyful and colourful,
They see but cannot appreciate.
Like a chocolate one can smell but not taste.

It is these people they hold on for,

For without them,
They would already be long forgotten.
And their presence merely a memory.
A memory of ages past,
Never to be seen in this life again.

So to those who bare those words,
Upon two blushing pilgrims,
I say to thee.
Never stop baring such things,
Never stop loving,
And never forget them.
For some may choose to take their dance,
And dance with the reaper early,
Before it is their time to dance.
Whilst some may fight tooth and nail,
And these soldiers of the mind,
Shall one day triumph above foe.
And learn to love again.

But to hold on,
Is to hold on.
And to wither and dance,
Is to dance and wither.
With only two choices,
With a single solution,
To choose either,
Is to choose pain.
But who should we hurt more?