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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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