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Hold My Hand I'm Dying….

[I borrowed this title from a great book by the same title by John Gordon Davis. We were newly-weds and childless so far, so we took turns reading it to each other, whilst driving through the life-enhancing African bush, blushing here and there at the explicit s*xual content, funny though, all I remember about the book is this terribly graphic scene where this huge, cruel crocodile grabbed a buck and after drowning it, dragged it down to its den beneath the river, where it would sit till the flesh rotted and then the crocodile could eat it…, yugh!]

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…,
The cosmic loneliness is encompassing me again,
And I acutely feel the existential futility of it all,
Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…
I think of all the wonderful loves that have graced my life and are now gone,
And I slowly wither,
Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…
I look to the future as it’s utter desolation beckons seemingly so unerringly,
And my bones turn to clay,
Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…
I think of my children and grandchildren living sooo far away from me,
And my spirit starts fading and being swallowed up by the abyss is beginning to look more and more desirable,
Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…
I read the ‘news’ every day, and the enormous disregard for humanity and it’s dignity fills me with melancholy no end,
And I sink into despair,
Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…

Dear G-d, hold my hand, I’m dying…
As I feel your hand in mine dear G-d,
I take comfort,
At first, it starts small,
But, then, as I turn to look into your fathomless eyes,
The comfort grows and it actually starts to metamorphose to a new world,
As your energy starts to flow through me,
I sense a new beginning,
A fresh start,
Where “the lion truly lies down with the lamb”,
And a new world,
A world tomorrow begins to shimmer through,
And the faint beginnings of a tired smile and new hope begins to stir in my breast,
Don’t ever stop holding my hand dear G-d,
I’m slowly coming back to life…
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jul 2014

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Comments (3)

hedistuff
Wow Earl...this is an entirely new sidestreet that you have taken me down. I really like this and will (one day) use it for creative inspiratiom. As to how one may imagine when facing inevitable death, I recall these words written by an accomplished author; 'I remember an extraordinary sense of jubilation, as if carnival lights had been switched on in a drab street.
My heart knocked in it's cage, and life contained an infinite number of possibilities.'
These days, I occasionally visit this writer's site and it is always a pleasure to see your face and read your sage words...
Earlgreytea
Thanks for your wonderful encouragement dear Hedi, it means much to me! Hope you and yours are well!
wine
Macduff5
Hi EGT,

Your thoughts in this poem are so identifiable. We are all dying and we so desperately want someone to hold our hand. wine wine
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