You’re here
You’re here,
holding my hand.
My body, my spirit ;
they’re polar opposites.
I’m stuck inside this grip,
or rather lack thereof.
You’re here, holding my hand.
You’re loving what’s left of a relic
what’s left of a statue.
My grip,
loosely held onto something intangible.
There are days that I do not know
if I’m really here.
Some days THIS doesn’t seem real.
I can, for a short time,
laugh it all away.
With you.
My body,
My spirit,
They’re an antithesis of symbiosis,
peace.
Some days I am more afraid than others.
You can see it, too.
You’re here.
You’re here, holding my hand tightly.
You’re keeping me anchored.
Other than Jesus, only you can.
4 responses to “My Tether”
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What a beautiful poem. I couldn’t help but think of my grandmother who passed away just over a year ago. When I was younger her hands helped garden, prepare food, mend our clothes, and guided us. As she got older, it was my hands that helped her. Helped provide comfort and to feed her.
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Aw, I’m so sorry to hear about your grandmother. That’s so hard to handle. My grandpa passed away a few years back and I was devastated. I collapsed at work when I got the call. We were always close I am close with my grandma too who is still doing well. God bless her. Losing loved ones is the hardest thing
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