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Oh Let Me Feel

When hearingís gone and vision dims,
And roses lose their scent;
When food sustains but has no taste,
Lord, wonít you please relent?

Pluck out my eyes, cut off my ears,
My tongue, my nose, and such;
But oh Lord do not take away
The blessed sense of touch.

For memory can supply the sights,
The sounds, the taste, the smell;
But if you take my touch from me,
In nothingness Iíll dwell.

Where will I begin, or end?
Of form Iíll be bereft;
Oh, take away the others, Lord,
But leave me this one left.

A fresh bouquet of roses soft
With thorns that can bring pain,
Remind me that Iím still alive,
As I feel the bloody stain.

My hands can "hear" a babyís cry
Pulsating through the air,
And they can soothe where voice be lost
In din echoing there.

Vibrations from the phonograph
Will ripple through my feet,
And once again Iím dancing
To memoryís perfect beat.

I do not need to see your tears,
Or taste their saltiness,
Iíve only but to feel them wet
To know your unhappiness.

The birdsong in the springtime
Still sings in memory,
And in my mind I still can see
The blossoms on the tree.

Oh let me feel the softness of
A puppies silken fur;
And let me stroke a kitten
And "hear" its rumbling purr.

And let me feel the breeze upon
My face at end of day;
My memory will supply the rest,
Lord donít take this away.

© Linda E. Newman 
All rights reserved.Used with permission
Read more of Linda's poetry  Here 

Music "God Grant Us Peace" midi
 Bruce DeBoar