On Borrowed Time Poem by Leonard Dabydeen

We know it
without the written word
escalating like a tsunami
to swallow up our breathless hearts
complex and compound our genre of hope
as we burst out
with a hue and cry
from the warmth of the womb
esoteric as always
in a penitentiary of pleasurable pain
we cry for joy
and let our mothers
impose a smile on their faces
and with bright eyes
a dazzling fantasy of life
changes the echo
as it ricochets in the wind
reading our rights
each of us in a different way
on borrowed time.