Poetry

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POC

In the first month of my childhood
I felt a heart beat out
That’s all I know this first month through
It sure is loud

The second month I heard a sound
Just like my heart, but all around
I know that I was not alone
Because the sounds were not my own

The third month I could feel my skin
Itching as I moved within
I started moving just to see
If anybody could hear me

Now I’m four and I can tell
Someone knows I am alive and well
They keep pushing in at me
And I keep pushing back, you see

I’m in the fifth month growing fast
I can kick real hard, I have a blast
I’m getting use to my sea of joy
I can turn and I can feel my bones, Oh boy

I’m six months old and I can see
Great big shadows passing me
And sometimes when I get real close
I hear a very, deep, deep voice

Now I’m seven and I’ve got a plan
I’ll kick and shove all that I can
I’ll make some noise and let them know
Someone’s in here ready to go

Well in my eighth month I’ve grown quite a bit
Where I use to jump, I can hardly fit
I can hear and see and taste and feel
There must be more than this water-wheel

Well now I’m nine, I can hardly move
There must be a way I can go to improve
Maybe over here, whoopee!!!
I found a place and now I’m free

Well now I’m a big boy, the training was rough
I remember my Maker, He formed me from the rough
Why, the first day my heart beat, I remember so well
I sure am glad I am alive to tell

No matter what happens, I’ll never forget
How much Jesus loved me, when He'd baby sit
The last thing I remember Him saying to me
Was, son when you get older, tell the world about me

I am now older, I know why He said
Yell out My story, My children are dead
I made you and taught you and gave you free will
Not to be gods of the helpless and still

Come back to me children all ages and race
I died so you could live in My place
My children are mine so let be what will be
You are not the gods of the POC

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