The heart monitor
Waiting for the last slow blip
An eternity
I touched your face with my hands
Gently whispered I love you
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #19: Waiting
The heart monitor
Waiting for the last slow blip
An eternity
I touched your face with my hands
Gently whispered I love you
In response to Patrick Jennings Pic and a Word Challenge #19: Waiting
I am a scientist by trade and artist by soul. My creative outlet used to be dancing but due to injuries and age, I must now find another path. I am hoping my writing, poetry and photography can be this new path. Awards: While I am grateful and honored for the numerous nominations, I don’t have time to respond to them with the attention they deserve, so for the most part, I am an award free blog. All photographs and words are mine unless otherwise credited. © 2015-2023 Dancing Echoes ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christy Draper with appropriate and specific direction to the original content on Dancing Echoes.
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January 15, 2016 at 10:26 pm
Poignant but lovely
LikeLiked by 2 people
January 15, 2016 at 11:06 pm
Thank you Melinda
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January 16, 2016 at 9:31 am
you’re welcome! 🙂
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January 17, 2016 at 1:48 pm
Whoa!
I think of my mother, at my unconscious father’s side in the airport. She’d come upon the scene, people gathered around a man lying on the ground, hoping it was not him. He never regained consciousness, but she says she felt him squeeze her hand when she told him she loved him.
Such a powerful moment you’ve captured.
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January 17, 2016 at 4:18 pm
Aw, lovely but sad. Xx
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January 17, 2016 at 7:44 pm
Oh no, I am so sorry. How horrible and sad. I gather from your writing your parents were great loves from an early age. There can be little solace in such an event and yet that squeeze meant everything in the world to her.
I almost called this piece unplugged because that is what I had to do but I didn’t like the image. He was conscious, just unable to breath on his own. I was his guardian and had to make the call. I explained what would happen and he was able to nod yes. He knew and embraced it. Thinking of it as a release helps me get through the grief that rolls in like waves.
Thank you and thank you for sharing.
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January 17, 2016 at 7:45 pm
Thank you Melissa. An unfortunate part of life but one that makes it precious.
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January 25, 2016 at 6:21 pm
Beautiful piece
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January 26, 2016 at 12:36 am
Thank you erotic!
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