Shh, hush my love let your heart be calm, your troubles lay at my door,
I'll pick them up and carry them a while and let you dream once more.
Close your eyes my blessed one, rest your troubled soul, for the morrow comes 'ere we know and I am bound for Sheol.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled heaving breast, and let me walk this mile.
You've tarried long in this task assumed blithely to be your labor,
Unknown to most a burden such they'd not carry for life nor favor,
Yet stand I ready to assume the task, at least to help yield the Axe, and,
Send those tormenting souls to Perdition's shore.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled vacant breast, and let me walk this mile.
Like rivers deep with hidden tides, currents of pain and woe, flow on in life and bring new strife for those who do not know.
Yet in their midst we walk aside the filthy and fetid sots
who spew forth words without a clue why on the floor see dark spots.
Yes our blood runs hot coursing through our veins, our fists like Gordian knots
(a stab a slice, the pain focuses - feels nice).
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wounded breast, and let me walk this mile.
We raise our arm, Claymores held high, as if to claim our right - but yet, it is for naught,
For our lives once thought to our own are wrought as though they're one.
And though we're tossed into the night that brings a chill unto the soul,
We sing our song of hope and praise like Silas, Paul, of old -
and watch;
As shackles cold as the hearts of men - fall like dust onto the dung below.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wearied breast, and let me walk this mile.
We rise from ashes like that gilded bird aflame with an heavenly fire
and surrounded by a host of wings, lay down our swords of ire.
For peace, like dew from the God above is sent to quench our thirst,
a word is given that fills our souls as if they could burst!
Yea love unfettered, unbound and unknown - for us and all who hear.
Love, given freely now, peace...no more tears.
Yes, I need your strength, your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
Now rest, my love, your nurturing breast, and let me walk this mile.
*All rights reserved-Copyright 2014 Gerald T. Hollingsworth
To a young friend in the grips of despair and on assuming the guilt for another's suicide.
