Untenable Poem by Melanie Walendowsky Baker

I have it in my hands
the invisible sense of being.
I know it's there,
I feel it there.
And yet, I can't see it.
The untenable soul
of who I am is still
unattainable.
Sitting in my hands,
weaving through my fingers,
tickling my yearnings and longings.
I know I have it all in my hands,
hoping that some day soon
invisibility will become reality,
the intangible will become tangible,
and myself will be returned to me.