The day I was born was the day I met Death,

She seemed so human, that was except.

Her voice rearranged you to an uneasy feeling,

Her focus so unnerving, I thought I was dreaming,

In her eyes revealed the story of an immortal being.

She was not so old, a child but complex,

Even though her aged husk did not reflect,

How scary with no malice, she looked into my eye’s direct.

She was here to first meet this sacred thing called life up close in the flesh.

She whisked me away,

So easily with words she did say,

I soared up to the Heavens for eternity I did stay.

Then she took me to hell for a spot of vacationing,

This seems unreal I started to think.

Then, somehow I was bullied and packed into a box,

I now know it to be my body of course.

And hurtling around me a family swarms,

‘Not mine’ I thought.

But, when they talk,

Memories spawn,

Like we always was.

An indefinable voice said to me ‘they are your family, you’re wrong’,

And even if they weren’t, where you are needed is where you belong.

That’s what family is and that’s what we call home.’

I struggle to move,

Because, now I know, I don’t have a clue.

I can see we all have a short time here on Earth,

And to loose them now, would be such a curse.

That was the day I was born,

Is it today, could I actually be reborn?

The decision,

A definition,

In which I am torn.

I’m not sure,

If what I saw,

Is true or not,

But by the wings of Angels, I feel I have been caught.