I’m not going

In the attic, in my dreams, a long time ago

I was a young man, still searching for me,

Many miles to go.

A voice told me, in the darkness of deep night,

That it was time for me to go away,

Afraid to my bones, I wanted to stay.

I’m not leaving, I’m not going,

Your going to have to drag me there,

I’ll fight you with everything,

You aren’t taking me now, I have not used up my share.

Sunshine in the springtime,

Life is so easy,

And a moments bad judgment,

Can bring a lifetime of misery.

Holding on tight,

Watching the trees, Feeling the sunshine,

Smelling the breeze,

Thinking about past moments,

I’d have prayed on knees,

Holding on tight, bones crushed on the field.

I’m not going, I’m not leaving,

It is not my time,

He won’t live till the morning,

He won’t see the sun shine.

You won’t take me now,

I’m not going, as I float above,

I can see everything around me,

A gentle white dove.

You won’t take me, I’m not leaving,

It’s just not my time,

I’ve got things yet to do,

I’ve got mountains to climb.

So Mr Voice go way, I’m just not buying,

They’ll be no flowers, and nobody crying.
I’m not leaving, I’m not going,

And I’ll have my way,

We’ll have another talk, some other day.

I’m not leaving, I’m not going

Today I will smile,

These crushed bones will carry me, many more miles.

About the poem – When I was 17 I went fishing with a good friend, and all day long I had a feeling that something wasn’t right. My bedroom was in the attic, and a few days before the day that I went fishing, I woke up hearing a voice, telling me it was time for me to come with them. I wasn’t dreaming, I recall it now as if it happened today. The voice said it twice. The voice said ‘Its time for you to come with us Carl’. True story.

So, we were coming out after fishing, I think we caught 8 or 9 nice trout that day. I was on the hood of the tractor, laughing ride em cowboy and having fun, until I bounced off and the back wheel ran over my waist. They had taken the chains off a couple weeks before, otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this. As it was, my pelvis was crushed in 3 places, 3 vertebrae also broken, massive internal injuries. Doctor told Mom that I wouldn’t live through the night But I did. I remember floating around the hospital watching what was happening as I lay there on the bed. This poem is about that.

The guy who drove the tractor, also named Carl, a great friend of mine, I felt so bad later when I knew how much he suffered. It was my stupidity that caused it, wasn’t his fault, I’m sorry that he felt so badly. He said that for a long time after he couldn’t sleep because he kept hearing the sound of my bones being crushed.