Enough

". . .enough of the pointing to the world, weary and desperate,

encough of the brutal and the border, 

enough of can you see me, can you hear me,

enough I am human. . .

enough of the animal saving me, enough of the

high [low] water,

enough sorrow..."

She manages to squeeze so many incidents a person

can identify with, it leaves me breathless and wrung out

even to read it.

And then the gut punch of an ending.

"I am asking you to touch me."

What human, animal, plant, rock isn't hungry for touch?

These words shook me deep in my solar plexus.

Deeper yet,  into that cavern of spirit some call a soul.

A place even a surgeon can't find.

Words can do that, I realize.  Bravo to Ada for proving it to me.