On Borrowed Time

232 7 6

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.”

On Borrowed TimeRead this story for FREE!