He’s in a coma, dire straits,
Only fifty, holding on hard
Pray, she begged, pray for us.
Memories assail , tormenting,
Tousled hair, constant curiosity,
Gentle hugs, thoughtful gifts.
I am old, used up and yet here,
Staying on. We shiver at the text’s
Ring in fear for him with years left.
CPR, two hospitals, stints, surgery,
Cranial pressure, the words pile up
With no relief, no room to breathe.
Where to turn, what to do, feel
When the impossible is right there
Taunting those with clinched fists
And hurt deep drenched in liquid fear.
My precious nephew,Olin Benjamin Gentry,
lost his fight yesterday on a routine business trip . . .
Oh Bruce, I’m so sorry! “drenched in liquid fear” is raw with emotion, and so perfectly describes the onslaught of grief. Powerful poem!
I had that call recently… Time both stops and keeps on. I am so sorry.
This poem will always be a balm and a tribute to your loss…
Sorry for your loss. As a pastor for 40 years, I’ve been a part of this many times. God Bless!
🙁 I feel this. I’m sorry.
thank you so much, words fail me, this will take a long time, maybe more than I have…
So sorry for your loss, Bruce.