Hold my hand
A little tighter
Dear grandson
As we kneel
At the edge
Of the pit
These gunshots
They are real.
For your five years
I have loved you
Protected
And adored
But my begging
And my pleading
By extremism
Is ignored.
My hand I place
Across your eyes
Softly voice
Do not be afraid
Before this madness
Can be stopped
I will sing a lullaby
In a better place.
-
Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: September 5th, 2026 03:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 63
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments6
I can feel this poem although my ignorance prevents its full understanding and that means something. When a poem can touch those that don't know its history it becomes universal. Nicely done
Thanking you much appreciated, Babyn Yar was one of the killing places by the Nazis during the war
You are most welcome and thank you for that information
A fine write N. Can this madness be stopped too? - people waiting at bus stop for non-existent No 7 bus? lol.
it never ends, ffffffffff no 7 lol
Well said.
thanks and appreciation
Most moving🙏🏻🕊️
Thanks my friend, always much appreciated
Norman, what a devastating piece. The history is enormous, but you bring it into one intimate moment between a grandfather and child…love trying to shelter innocence even when nothing else can. That final lullaby absolutely breaks the heart. Powerful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
most kind, thanks and appreciation
Fine words Norman, we need t show our grandchildren that life can be wonderful.
Andy
we do indeed thanks for read my friend
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.