Father, into your hands I commend my spirit

It has been a year, 366 days to be exact, since I started publishing my blogs here on a daily basis.
I find this poem written almost a year ago still relevant today.
Thank you and God bless everyone!
Stay safe too.

Quiet Storm by Fr. Nicanor F. Lalog II, 15 April 2020

Photo by Mr. Chester Ocampo, Immaculate Conception Seminary chapel, 2014.

It was three in the morning
my day was earlier than usual calling
while kneeling I began praying
I could not believe the words coming
for they are meant before sleeping:
"Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit."

Since the beginning
of this quarantine
there is this feeling
seeping within, asking
what is happening
but scared when answering.

It is reality now biting
reminding me of one thing
that is so intimidating
haunting me ever since
not just of dying
but of being alone.

I know it is the Easter season
but there must be a reason
why this is going on:
I have never felt alone
until I have grown old
when there is nobody home.

When Jesus died on the cross he was alone but never…

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