A man lays in a hospital bed, cold, sterile,
Holding a photo of his wife and daughter and son
In his grasp as he comes face to face with peril.
A valiant effort, but the disease ultimately won
The battle for his life. He sheds a tear,
Then two, then three – an outpouring of pain –
But worse than hurt is the fear
He may never have the chance to see them again.
As he gazes into the still eyes of his love,
Running his fingers through the paper of her hair,
The pain leaves his body, his soul a dove,
Flying away to eternity without a care
For the body it leaves behind. Ascending
To the heavens, free – free as could be –
The picture falls from his limp hand, descending,
Til it reaches the ashen floor, and he meets the almighty.
He opens his eyes and gazes upon the throne of gold
Where the judge sits high above, and his robes shine
White as snow. He holds a scroll, and in bold
Red ink, it lists all the man’s faults – an outline
Of how he lived his life. His lamentful cries return
As the judge reads out each transgression, one by one,
The salt in his eyes begins to burn
And he wishes his suffering was dead and done.
“Your sins are great,” the judge begins, no need to persuade.
“I see the sorrow in your heart. Believe me when I say
Your sins are forgiven – your debt has been paid.”
And the man couldn’t believe that even he may
Be spared judgment for all he did. “Why?”
The man questions. “How can I be forgiven,
When the ones I hurt will not forgive, would not say goodbye?
No, send me away! To hell I should be driven!”
The judge steps down from the throne, but the man
Shields his face – too ashamed to speak, too terrible
To deserve any mercy. This was never the plan,
But the pain he caused – it is unbearable.
Still, the judge sets it all aside, arms held wide
And wraps the man in a welcoming embrace.
“My child,” says the judge, “you don’t need to hide
Any longer. You are saved by my grace.”
“And of your family,” the judge continues on,
“Forgiveness is a choice only they may make.
As for me, I have made my decision – your sins are gone,
And you are made pure – if you’ll allow me to take
The anguish you hold and lay it down for good.”
The man could not speak, for he was in awe
Of the judge who saved his soul, when he could
have left the man to be judged by the law.
The judge leads the man to a gate,
Turns his eyes to him and says “leave your burdens here.
They are no longer yours to carry. Do not wait
And son, do not fear,
For you are safe now. Beyond the door
You will find: there is no sorrow,
There is no pain that shakes your core,
There is no hate, nor fear of tomorrow.”
The man stands still, but within he moves –
He dropped his cares, his worries; every fretful thing
He thought he’d always have the judge now removes,
And his load now light as an eagles wing.
Into the gates he runs with reckless abandon.
Colors eyes have never seen, sounds
Sweeter than ears have heard. Oh to stand in
The glory of the heavens where pain stops and grace abounds!
Ember Frost Writes 