the girl with trembling hands

Maybe someday.  Maybe someday.
There are good and kind people. I know it.
I have touched my palm to the face of that deep pond,
full of beautiful minds and souls and caring hearts.  
I have held it over the water as the water gently moves and touches my palm in it’s unassuming way, shooting straight to my heart. 
I have longed to plunge my hand in and feel it’s warmth surround but;
It's depth. 
It's depth scares me and what may lurk beneath, and also what lurks inside of me.

I have also stuck my whole arm into the deep muddy hole, moving it back and forth, 
searching for something, grasping for good.  I almost enjoy the feeling of mud between my fingers, but quickly grow dark in mind and heart. 
I hear their voices and their stories, how they treat people and how they are treated (the little mind games)
and i begin to wonder if it is normal.  That we are all like this. That maybe there is no climbing out. 

Or does the girl with the trembling hands turn her back acknowledge the wrong, turn her back and walk forward to what is good and kind.

(trembling hands
but a heart growing stronger)