It is the feast of St Barnabas.
I think of our local hospice.
We can go without fuss.
What really will we miss.

Cherish life.
Accept death.
Sooner or later it will be cut as with a knife.
One moment here then our last breath.

But the hospice holds us in love.
Not delaying our passage.
Releasing us like a dove.
Leaving behind hope’s message.

Do not speed me on my way.
Do not hold me back from my true fate for one day.