I don’t wanna die.
Please God don’t let me die.
Does anyone plan the time?

I lie choking on my own blood and regret.
With a picture of my children scratched into my eye.
My babies, I’ve robbed my kids, or was I taking before?
I’m not a father, more of an imposter and a thief.
Have I come to give and then leave, to be absent so soon?
A sick haunting reality twists in my gut.
The deepest of pain.

Friend at side, wife on the way, mother in prayer, shadows in corner.
Tears in my eyes, hands in my face, shame in my heart, telling, no pulling, no wrestling, the hope from it.

When the chemistry is wrong it all collapses.
The systems fall like dominoes.
Strength evaporates.
It all unravels.
And life cannot abide in this vacuum.
Without order, rhythm, and happy cadence.

I don’t want to die.
What good am I dead, good alive?
I want to be.
Please God don’t let me die.

A looming fear, a tired heart, and uncertainty in me like barbed trouble hooks.
Stabilized, discharged and papers in hand.
The shadow looming in the corner followed me out.
Anxiety strapped around my ankle and drug along.
I cry in the car, with uninvited passengers.
Still short of breath, I drive.
Wondering, and shocked, my unwelcome party won’t stop chatting.
All I can see are my children, and I feel alone.

I don’t want to die.
Please God, let me live.
Teach me to do it and do it well.
For them, for you, for all.


Photo by Steve Harvie, Unsplash