Pearly Gates
PEARLY GATES
I’m brought before Saint Peter,
On display in a clear glass crate,
Nothing hidden up my sleeve,
Except a hammer, I jest to escape.
He approaches me out of nowhere,
Ask him for a chat while we wait,
Gentle voice replies “of course son”
We’re summing up, there is no haste.
Listen! played the hand I was dealt,
Although bluffed, behind a poker face,
Concealing more lies than honesty,
Yet love always, outshone the hate,
At times life seemed unbearable,
Beyond all reason to procrastinate.
When younger I couldn’t get enough,
Though excess, simply led to waste,
Won’t bore you with petty details,
For fear deaths a pitiless place,
Bit late in the day, seeking salvation,
Begging forgiveness, no saving grace.
“Never said a truer word my child,
Crocodile tears, cannot work this case,
Condoned, condemned, in the balance,
On very thin ice, this verdict skates.”
“Whatever I say does not matter,
It’s meaningless gone past debate,
God alone will pass the sentence,
Life’s evidence, will judge your fate.
By
David Kavanagh
Copyright © David Kavanagh | Year Posted 2020
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