Hold My Hand

. . .

Hold My Hand

Thought’s of my father, mother, brothers and I.
I think of their lives, those harsh crushing gains.
Twisted rhyme without reason, what really remains?
I cry as a child, is salvation for all? 

Tears roll from my eyes, in quiet sorrow,
Such unwanted ills, so many tomorrows. 
The deep well of anguish captures my heart,
Having no kindness for my passion’s part.

The pain of my loved one’s lives on in my heart. 
Oh for the pain, so unreal without warrant.
I rock and I cry, such vicious torrent.
Can you see, do you feel, have you heard we are real?

Tomorrow has come, for father, mother, brothers, and I. 
Father and Cleary see upcoming tomorrow’s.
They are soothing warm candles, to aid this family’s ‘morrows.
This family feels the force that is their's; always be with us, no doubt they are near.

Sad with those sorrows, my brothers and I. 
We hold on with our heart, soul, and true shine. 
All we all do is hold on.
Yes, all we all do is hold on.

I cry slowly rocking, healing power long gone.
In shallow breath wanting, I sway sorrow's song.
Tears drip from my eyes, in thought of hard gotten times.
Now part of the past, they are certainly gone.

The past is the past, and soon comes tomorrow.
My brothers and I cry out absent sorrow.
We are not all that bad, and want most above all,
To share loving wondrous time, without that vicious, rhythm and rhyme.

All glimpses of wonder so far in between, the depths of darkness, enveloping. 
Is wonder that hard to be seen, so far in between, what used to be then, is now again?

Renew, renewal, what is it then? 
Is it done in the morning, with the rise of the sun?
Can you shed it at night, when rest is at hand,
And be born the next morning, when day’s light takes the stand?

Can I be reborn at any time? 
Again have great promise, without paying a dime?
No matter the changes, with my brothers and I,
Grace always has patience, hold my hand as I cry.

SHEA

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