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
and
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.”
