Poem: Holding their hands

It’s a sacred experience

To be in the presence of hopelessness

When everything looks dry and rigid

No amount of medication can bring reprieve

No amount of words can extinguish the anguish

It’s as if everything under the sun is hopelessness

The plate of food on the table has nothing to offer

Not even a concoction of spells is helpful

The bandage on their wound cannot stop the dreaded feeling of death

The moment of certainty is deliberately balanced on the moment of uncertainty

Everything is shaky, unpleasant and gloomy

There are no sign posts to offer consolations

Not even the sunshine can offer hope

All human capabilities have been exhausted

The moment of death is fast approaching like a runaway train

No amount of warmth seems enough

We have entered the sacred place of emptiness

When ego has naturally deserted its perch

And all thoughts are frozen stiff

It’s the moment of death

Holding their hands is the only bridge

Between their world and yours

As they slip into the realm of the unknown

Body and mind left to rot

The soul has finally been released

The physical bondage has been broken

The spirit is freed

To soar through the skies of heaven

Death is a sacred experience

That inhabits the doctor’s mind

In these times of Covid-19 outbreak

There is no one to hold their hands

Only death

Stay safe

Wear your face masks in public

Wash your hands more often

Practice social distancing

Dedicated to all Health Care workers and all patients lost to the Covid-19 outbreak

©Kenneth Maswabi