On Borrowed Time

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I wrote this poem about 15 years ago. My first and only attempt. It is certainly not polished but you might like it.

On Borrowed Time

I have lived on borrowed time

since the age of ten

When the waters of a lake

tried to draw me in

I bounced up once

before descending

In my mind

A whispered bell did sing,

“One swallow child

your new life will begin.”

No thought had I of friend or foe

But even as a child I know

That Death did stand before me,

the antagonist of my race.

“Are you Jesus?” I did ask.

“No child” he spoke

with a voice so sweet.

“Are you Michael then?”

“If you want to call me that you can.”

He turned knowing

I would follow.

We walked.

We did not talk.

I stopped.

My mother’s face I did see,

weeping in her hands for me.

“What is it child?”

“I cannot go;

I can not hurt my mother so.”

“Two children she has lost,

I cannot bear to make it three.”

“You are an unselfish child.”

The spirit did say to me.

I blushed, “No” 

for I was frightened so

To the depths of my soul.

My pounding head

a voice did thunder

A loud resounding “No” I suffered.

Comforting sand beneath me

A final desperate kick

I did ascent

To the warm grabbing hands

of friends.

I was aware of my new birth.

I was once more upon the earth.

My friends I did not tell.

Only a cat named Honey Bee

Was the keeper of my epic tale?

But when slumber would not come,

This journey I would recall


fall into blissful sleep.

When before the Lord

I stand

with my heart

held in His Hand.

I will thank Him

for the extra time.

He may laugh

and say to me.

"On borrowed time are all of thee,

But you child

are blessed

With knowing it.”

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