Touch – by Tina Healy

What is love without touch?


Without the lingering caress of fingers

that sing a song of grief,

a hunger

like a seaside mist, where gulls cry invisible, so lost

and miserable without your love that was gentle and blind

to my awkward kind of being, my odd way of seeing

myself …

Crazed plate on a dusty shelf …

But you loved me for who I am, your gender anagram.

I miss your touch, much as the sea misses

the sun’s kisses, as day powers down


What is love without touch?


I close my eyes, you rise next to me,

your love inside me, as we close the circle

to a universe space, where distance is nothing,

where love is whispered breaths of passion

moist on my breasts, and love cries as we move

as one.

I open my eyes, you are gone …

Love is a ghost, a grey dove with wings that are wraithlike,

memory fakes that break the heart


What is love without touch?


This cursed virus that preys in silence, building walls

where loneliness falls like goodbye tears.

When your face disappears from the screen,

and I am left staring at a grey abyss …

I miss you …

No voice on a phone, or an image that beams

like a ghost in my dreams can replace

the touch of your face, the safety of

your arm’s embrace

my wholeness path, my lightning and thunder

my passion that plunders an ocean of grief


What is love without touch?


Tina Healy is an advocate, peer support worker and an elder in the transgender community. She is a dad to her children, grandma to her grandchildren, and just ‘Tina’ to her community.

Back to Bent Street 4.1 – Love from a Distance