Holding Their Hands Poem by Kenneth Maswabi

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 signposts 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

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