Just one Borrowed Angel

In a hushed ward where shadows softly crept

A silent boy, in a deep coma slept

His broken head with bandages bound

Helped heal the boy who made no sound

His mum kept a vigil ‘till the closing of the day

Sitting by his bedside where he quietly lay

A silent boy, who cannot hear

Dispelling shadows, hushing fear.

Then an angel sang softly, her spirit light

Dispelling gloom though the dark empty night

She did not preach, nor did she pray

She chose a more melodic way

She did not speak of sorrows deep

But sang a melody, Oh, so sweet

Within his mind a spark took hold

A warmth replacing the winter’s cold

He lay unmoving, a canvas stark

Lost somewhere deep in the silent dark

Perhaps a frequency, a tender sound

Reached where no simple words were found

The rhythm pulsed, a steady beat

A waking life, so bitter-sweet

His eyes met hers, confusion in his gaze

Emerging slowly through the misty haze

Her singing continued, a little off key

A little tearful, now the boy could see

A figure soft in her habit close by

With gentle hands and a comforting eye

 For in her song, a love profound

The boy at last was truly found

She sang of hope and quiet grace

A calm, holy sound filling this empty space

He blinked his eyes, his voice just a thread

Am I in heaven, the boy softly said

Not yet my child, but where you’re meant to be

Safe in our care, from your troubles free

His eyes held wonder, memory a blur

Then tell me sister, when did I return

Just now she said, you’ve made your way back home

Away from darkness, never more to roam

Her soft voice made the vigil sweet

For even in silence, in shadows deep

A song can guard while a body sleeps

Forever where I venture, wherever I may roam

This is my Eden, this is my home

The story unfolds like a gentle prayer

Whispering through time, for all I must bear

I had been so lost, but now so mellow -

For I ‘m the boy who became ‘a faraway fellow’

 I would like to pay my respects and give thanks for the kind and diligent Doctors and Nursing Staff at Providence Hospital. St. Helens. The nuns from the order of The Servants of The Mother of God who looked after me, and to the beautiful singing nun who kept a vigil by my bedside over the long months, for her care, kindness and compassion. For her patience and tutelage when I awakened from my coma. ‘From a taper of light to a flickering flame’ I am forever indebted to them all.

 This poem is an excerpt from the biography

‘The Boy Who Became a Faraway Fellow’

A stroke of luck

I’m not complaining just explaining….
How things are now with me
On the morning of the 29th
I had a stroke you see.

I’m not complaining just explaining….
My memory just a blur
Then hands of reassurance
My strength, my wife was there.

I’m not complaining just explaining….
How I felt that day
Inert in terror, lacking strength
Please let me live, I pray.

I’m not complaining just explaining….
Why my writing ended
I needed all my energy
‘Till head and body mended.

I came through to tell my story
One that I survived
And now I wake each morning
To give thanks that I’m alive.

The Damselfly

In a blue whisp of a whisper, pirouetting free,

Wings all a flutter, she settles next to me,

Carefree with delight bedecked in turquoise blue,

Dainty and graceful, sparkling in the dew.

With beauty, full of life, flitting to and fro,

Carousing in the sunlight, she puts herself on show,

Once she was an ugly bug, living in a pond,

A nymph that cast her skin, rising from beyond.

With filmy gossamer wings aflutter,

I watch her flying by,

And marvel at the turquoise jewel,

The ballerina of the sky.

Then as if answering an unspoken plea,

She weaves her magic over me,

A beauty of nature, a gift beyond compare,

But I had no thoughts to find her there.

Like a hiccup out of the blue,

The beautiful damsel comes into view,

With wings of delicate filigree,

She leaves an ineffable tracery.

With her agile body, putting on a dance,

She finds true love to begin a romance,

Then flies in tandem, full of grace,

To share a world in a different place.

Then six weeks’ on as she wanders her ways,

It’s time to close the story of her fleeting days.