I sit in a corner of my new one-room world, with only
Scratchy dull grey walls, and barred windows
I’m an imprisoned soul in an imprisoned body.
Looking out the window, I see
Only the distant barbed-wire fence –
The boundary of my new world
Few of my kind have crossed it,
Though many have tried.
I shall not, I’m sure.
Sleep here is a cold, infrequent visitor, and
My eyes have long forgotten their
Friendship with dreams.
This is no ‘human’ life, but
For us sinners, it is fitting;
A little imitation of Hell.
I remember the fateful day, the
Statements and crosses,
Questions and answers, the
Passing of judgments and banging of gavels,
And the writing of my destiny.
A tryst with the inevitable, only much too soon.
I knew then what most men want to know,
But maybe not knowing is a luxury.
A priest came by to tell me, that
My soul is immortal.
Agree to disagree.
All that’s left is this anxious wait,
This passage of time I cannot kill,
And cannot walk across.
I’m now subject
To the mocking comedy of the clock.
But my time will come;
Maybe knowing is a luxury.
There will be a final meal,
Final wishes and final words.
Final goodbyes to friendly faces,
And a final snap of bone
As I finally escape from this world,
And every other.