Written by Gail Debole on
April 2, 2013
She, on her near-death bed
Face grey as she faced what is inevitable.
I, sitting to the right
And Death floating to the left.
She, mumbling that it was her time.
That she was to leave.
I, forbidding her to go.
Told her that it was NOT her time.
She needed to stay.
The nurses, came to her rescue.
One on each side.
Death and I moving away.
Her face becoming pink with new-found life.
It was a miracle, the nurses exclaimed.
She, with eyes awake.
Death moving on to another victim.
I, again seated to her right.
She told me her truth.
She smiled and explained
That she was still here
Because God had said
that it was not her time to go.
And I, who knew my truth,
And who never pretended to be God
Knew that NOT to be true.
And could never tell her my truth.
And she, who lived on
Told that story many times
Of the miracle that she was part of.
And I, never said a word.
Then years later after her passing
My mind’s eye opened.
Could she have been right?
Did God tell her to stay that day
Speaking the words through my mouth?