Saturday, November 16, 2013

Time - The Poem

Poetry has been and is a part of my healing process.
I did not write this poem.  It came to me.  I wrote it down.


God is all eternity.
He doesn’t measure time.
Here on earth  it pushes us
With steady, metered rhyme.

Time was running way to fast,
The years were flying by.
A week seemed but a day
An hour, the a wink of an eye.

One night in it’s headlong rush
Time crashed, it stopped, stood still.
A mighty hand had reached inside,
And stopped the spinning wheels.

Your little heart stopped beating,
My leaping, lively one.
Your little feet stopped climbing,
You had reached the highest rung.  

Time just stopped and stood there,
A heavy, crushing weight,
Holding fear, and pain, and anger
Inside it’s iron gate.

Slowly the wheels started turning
As if in agony.
The hours that flew so quickly by
Seemed to fill eternity.

Time hurry, go on, faster
Rush on past this pain.
Make the years go flying
Heal my heart again.

I am sorry, Time has answered
This has come to stay.
I can only ease your sorrow,
I cannot make it go away.

My little one, you’re off and running,
You’re  running on ahead.
No measured steps of pain for you,
Timeless freedom is yours instead.

Your little feet are off and running,
Climbing, leaping as before.
I am waiting . . . waiting to join you.
Where time shall be no more.

pja   1991 November 20


  1. I understand what you say. MOst of the things I write down just come to me.

    1. Sometimes they come, usually in the night. I have learned to get up and write them down. Other times I write and re-write to get it right.