Not my time


Not my time

 

By Adria Martin

 

Sometimes I envy the people

Who are able to go back home.

Home to God.

Because imagine us, all of us,

In a tough school down here

On the very Blue Planet

Which is not quite blue,

Struggling every day

With every chore,

With every dragging to get up

In the morning for work,

With pains and downs

And lows

Coming from nowhere

At every corner of the hour.

Once I kept track of my happy days

On the calendar.

I was putting every day a sign

To make some simply accounting

In my amazingly happy life:

May 30. Headache. Not happy.

May 31, better. So-so happy.

June 1. Bad luck. Dentist said

I need to have that tooth out.

June 2. My love hurt me so bad.

June 3. So happy today!

I had an incredibly awesome day!

Want more of these!

After three months I gave up

The happy days were like

Grains of salt and pepper

Sprinkled on a plate full of

Brocolli.

It’s like I could already hear

Someone up there,

A motherly angel, saying:

Eat that broccoli, it’s good for you!

“Good?! Good for who?”

I was replying in my mind

As I continued to chew

The steamed green bouquets

Of vitamins and minerals.

But I felt like screaming

From the top of my lungs:

I want burgers and pasta

And ice-cream and chocolate!

Why am I chewing this?!

So I gave up to my simply

Saddening accounting.

I don’t need to know all these!

Come what may! Who cares?!

Who wants to know for sure

How many days in a year

Is really happy and nothing happens,

Nothing hurts?!

Not me.

I would love to go home

When the furious waves threaten

My fragile boat,

In the middle of the

Ocean of my mind.

I would rather be back home

When someone hurts me,

For absolutely no reason that I know

And could never understand.

I would rather be home

When I see so much injustice

Engulfing this beautiful world

From everywhere.

And I would surely be home

Rather than raise my shoulders

Helplessly when I see

So much poverty and greed

In this wonderful world.

How can you be happy

Knowing that someone else

Is suffering, starving

Or doesn't have insurance

To pay for the medical bills…

Or worse, doesn't even

Have a hospital to go to!

Or…even more nightmarish,

Doesn't have a pump of water

Having to drink from a pond!

So yes, every time I hear

About somebody going back home,

I tend to envy them a little

Knowing what joy and bliss

Is waiting for them there.

I've been there before

I accepted to come down here.

And later on

I was there one more time

Halfway through my life…

But the gatekeeper looked

Intrigued at me

And said:

Don’t drop out now!

Look at how much you've achieved,

How many lessons you've learned so far,

Go and finish your

Soul’s University!

It’s not your time to come home.

He shows me the movie

Of my life so far

And yes…I learned quite a lot

The Gatekeeper smiles

And then sends me back

Slipping in my pockets

Some more colorful coins

I take them in my palm

And look at them…

 5 coins of Hope

7 coins of Strength,

And a lot of love coins.

I put them back in my pocket

And slowly head down to

The very Blue Planet

Which is not so blue all the time.

Not my time yet…

My husband and my son

Open the door for me
So happy to see me back…

Life is beautiful!

I hug and kiss them,

I give each of them two coins

Of love

And head peacefully

Serenely for a nice shower:

Not my time yet.

 

 

Toronto

July 9, 2015

(Inspired by the going home

of Francesco, Diana’s uncle)


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