Maybe you thrust your arms forward with a fist,
Because you feel you were being dissed.
Maybe you fold your arms at the side, hands on waist,
Because you feel anger from the trust misplaced.
Maybe you cross your arms in front of your chest,
Because you feel the need to protect the heart distressed.
But maybe you hold your arms in self-hug,
Because you feel the comfort of mom to whom you snug.
Or maybe you spread your arms out wide,
Because you feel affection for the one you eyed.
And even maybe you lift your arms up in the air,
Because you feel joy in moments you share.
Then maybe your arms just cannot arm any more,
Since you caress things so dear they become all sore.
I hope my arms reach yours in time to care for,
And hold on to you through whatever with which you’re at war.
– I mourn with my second homeland today.