A Borrowed Death

This poem speaks about the death of a child

A Borrowed Death © 2014
Written By Sean C. Harrison Jun. 11, 2014

When youth's brevity becomes even more so
In spite of all we'd hoped them to be,
Our visions lost in their stillness and our grief,
There is no place for detached acquiescence to mortality.

For our inward rage rails against the edict that so often falls
Yet should not upon us, we say.
We cannot see why
And we weep for not knowing anything now but a lost chance
To find one of our making turning into us then little others,
Extending our lifeline for indefinite time,
“Too soon” the cry.

We do not so mourn for a hoary head
Who traversed eons to his rest
And never in that moment think, Heaven knows best,
Of course leaving room to man's forbidden liberty
To snatch a soul wantonly.

But what of when it was not whole?
When we fought for its very existence
But could not enough to sustain its next breath?
Would we call that a borrowed death,
When it writhed in measureless agony or likely could have?

No, my tearstained friends.
It's said, better is a man's end if even a child.
For the edict after that edict simply states, “Rejoice!”
It is only if you hold no hope within you will not,
Granted, while your tears are cried.

For hope does not borrow its joys,
Hinging them on a favourable outcome,
But strives for that child's home
Not now knowing what could have been
But that which shall be
When in glory that child we see.

Author's Note

How well penned was this piece?