Moistening the Parched Soul

I can still feel your hand

A weak squeeze

Dry skin against mine

Still hear the machine

Pulsating in the background

Providing you oxygen

Still feel the humid breeze

Blowing through the window

Ruffling strands of hair

Still feel the oppressive heat

From a late summer day

Permeating the room

Still feel the furrowed brow

As my fingertips moved

Across your gray hair

Still sense the sadness

As life slowly slipped away

With each passing breath

Each strained breath

I sat with you that day

Next to your bed

Next to your frail body

A raspy word, barely audible

Emerged from your lips

“Water.”

I imagined what it felt like

As I raised moistened sponge

To your parched mouth

Brief refreshment

A soothing moment

Amidst the pain

I hope my presence

Did the same

A moment of peace

Soothing peace

For your parched soul

Then Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. – John 6:35 (NIV)

© 2019 CGThelen

10 thoughts on “Moistening the Parched Soul

  1. This brought a sweet memory I cling to often of when my mother died. It had been nine days and each one we thought was, “the day.” It came with all the sounds one expect yet the moment her soul passed on there was a quiet like I have never experienced. She was gone, left her dress of flesh, the sickness, the mental anguish, the sudden breathe only to fall away and return for a second, only quiet was left. It was a heavenly moment and I can still feel it today as I type this comment. Thank you for such beautiful words that describe it.

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