In my cold dead fingers there won't be a gun
Or a weapon of any type to harm anyone,
If they ever find my lifeless body lying upon the ground
Remember this, to it my soul will not be bound.
There will be no weapons near my pulseless wrist
And my fingers won't be clinched to form a tight fist,
If someone had wanted my living here on earth to ever cease
They surely would accomplish that, but then I'd find my peace.
When they place my cold dead body down to its eternal rest
I hope that everyone realizes, that in life I was truly blessed,
In my closed cold dead fingers I hope to be clinching a Bible
Clutching the good book and not a weapon, was my survival.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem