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THE FORGOTTEN JUDGES

I had  forgotten them because  it was long ago
But nothing is forgotten  
It is all written in the book
The great ledger showing credits and debits
Used to think of Judgement as being 
A guy in a white beard  totting up 
The debits and credits and  then awarding 
Some sort of final gift based on the balance
Now it has suddenly become clear that
There will be perhaps a small handful of  
People from the past, now long gone,
Facing me as I approach the teller’s grille
They stop me as I try to join the line, 
And draw me aside to their small group
I can’t remember them -  but they remember me
An old woman all wet from the rain,
Two guys looking down-and-out without jobs or hope
A schoolkid with broken glasses from some class of losers
And an African child, way too thin to be healthy.
They all smiled and talked about incidents 
Where I had touched their lives somehow.
With my weekly cheque, the African had survived and become an engineer.
Glasses-kid graduated school,  grew up and found a wife in Chicago.
One old guy had died soon after I met him,
But with a warm meal inside his belly and  hope.
Other guy liked the job I got him in some recycling place.
Old woman had spent my cash on lessons for her grandson -
Every bag  of her pickled cabbage I bought on that windy wet street
Sent him to school and he earned enough to look after her
In her older years, much to her relief.
I said I was glad to see them again, looking so well.
Even though I didn’t remember them –
But that I really had to get  in line for the grille
They said listen up  - you can 
Skip the line, go straight in the white door over there,
And say we  sent you  -  you’ll be ok.

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