On Dying and other poems

29 Mar

On Dying
Oh thank the Lord for peace alights
And warms my fears away.
My heart sings songs of gratitude
And wonders at this paradox
That brings this Joy.

To never see my sons again
Or touch their hair;
To never hear their mirth
Or sooth their fears;
To never share their dreams:
The thought alone brings pain.

To never feel the sun, or wind,
Or rain upon my face,
Or watch the eagle fly
Nor touch the grass
All seem very strange.

As my day draws to its close
These Joys more precious grow
With each pulse of my ebbing life
I feel the call to give my last
And to let go.

Somewhere in this setting free
A new peace enters me
And I feel blessed for the
Sweet- sad parting grows
Sweeter by degrees.

©Jeanihess ©Jeanette Hess

What a quiet time to
To wind and match
Bits and parts of
Thoughts and words
Retrieved along the
Battle path.
What healing balm
To feel the Peace
Enfolding gently
Ever gentler:

Joy filters and trips
Through restful shrouds.
Light twinkles and smiles
While spirit rests awhile
Bathed in the light
Of insightfulness.

Warmed by the afternoon sun
The fingers of Death
Bear a loving caress
And the promise of
The setting sun.

©Jeanihess ©Jeanette Hess

Words Are My Tools
Words are my tools and I give
Form to feelings and to thoughts;
Make sense of abstract worlds
By sequencing selected words.

I string them onto sentence twine
Like chosen, polished jewels
Arrayed and ordered one by one
Reflecting truths, and hopes, and dreams.
Reflecting fears and lies.

I draw out hidden beauty,
Reveal the secret pain;
Sometimes I even touch the place
That celebrates this life
With flickers from the jewel lights
Dancing brightly to and fro.

And still I fail to find the words
That say how dear you are to me:
For this a total dearth.

©Jeanihess ©Jeanette Hess

Jeanihess Blog South Africa


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