My Life Yet To Come

My days were numbered from the very start I fought for every breath due to my heart My PDA closing I started to gasp Just trying to breathe became such a task The medicines they worked for a couple of days But my heart still beating like I was running a race It was beating so fast it was wearing me out My heart was failing there was not doubt My parents were worried, distressed, and confused The tears now flowing due to the news Tomorrows the day I go under the knife I’m not even two weeks and fighting for my life My lactic’s were climbing and my function so poor I had not the energy to play on the floor I’m feeling so weak I just want to sleep Something my mom is watching is starting to beep I can hear them talking but just don’t understand I am still comforted by the warmth of her hand The tone in her voice as she started to speak Something about Jesus and my soul to keep I have my eyes closed but I still see a light I’m am very little but I know something’s not right I hear my mom cry as I took my last breath But I am to young fear this thing they call death The first thing I saw when I reached towards the glow Was the figure of a man that for some reason, I know He wrapped me in his arms and I felt so safe I reached up to him and I touched his warm face He spoke so softly and as not to startle me so He told me he loved me and was letting me go He told me a story of my life yet to come That one day my living would be witness to some I don’t know why and I still can’t explain But I opened my eyes when I felt a sharp pain I took a deep breath and I started to cry I looked up to see mom with a tear in her eye Still hooked to wires and lying in bed For some reason I’m stronger and wanting to be fed My parents don’t know it but I saw God that day He gave me more time to frolic and play God has his reasons that some live and some die What some parents have to endure leaves a question. Why? I know it’s not fair but I don’t question the choice I am a witness for him and I still have a voice My heart isn’t normal but it’s perfect you see Because without it there’s no story, no poem about me I’m one of Gods miracles a testament to his grace I was only a week old but I got to touch Jesus face As my son lie dying in the hospital i wrote this