Death held out his hand
Walk with me a while, he said
So I took his hand
And walked along beside him
At first afraid, I calmed in his presence
For he held me dear in love
And fear melted into wonder
He did not take me then
It was not my time
But he is never far
And life is richer for it
strangely comforting
But death is never far And life is richer for it
Thanks Esther. I know the poem might seem morbid, but for me the experience was beautiful and liberating.
Peaceful acceptance of the inevitable is perhaps the greatest favor we can do for self-care. I found your poem strangely comforting, Galen ????
(not sure why those question marks appeared)
I’m glad it came across that way, Vidya. That is what I was trying to convey about my own experience. And I agree with what you said about peaceful acceptance of the inevitable.
Funny about those question marks! A message from beyond?
Galen, so beautiful. That sort of peace hard to find and often comes with a price. Sending much love your way.
Barbara
Thank you. True about the price, Barbara. But having paid it, it seems worth it.
Hi Galen,
I am grateful that he hasn’t taken you (or me!) yet. May the peace and wonder you experienced continue as we all keep walking each other home. ~Kathy
Ha! I’m grateful too, Kathy! Death’s presence is a deep reminder to enjoy all our moments of this precious life, and to know there is nothing to fear when we go home.