The guards have finally brought me to this last place. I stand at the very end of a plank. The plank extends over a deep chisom. Below is hell. I see them down there. Their leather’d arms, extended high, their hands of clawed nails, waiting for me. Yet, I breath. I close my eyes. I begin to imagine a tree branch, beads along itself of rain drops giving off rain bow colors. I feel my toes over the very end of the splintered plank….. One at times has to summon up deep within and command one so just to keep going. Just to make these moments now before me. I open my eyes. I look to the right. I see the good bye salute of aligned cell doors that wish me no more….. Only the words come, from below , ‘ come our living son, fall to us . Yet, I still smell the wonder of the prison behind me. Yet, I listen and through the cries from below of the insane….. I see, Lord God, my soul even running across some field, abandoning me. I see dark birds upon a worn, wooden cross watching my soul flee…… I hear the squawk of the birds ; voices as if a snicker….. I cut from those thoughts, even any thought of a glimpse of freedom. I even manage to look up at some ugly sky.,,, my eyes following the ever so movement of the purple mass….. giving off the most unholy shade. I even feel a hot wind trying to push me off the plank’s edge. I stand fast. For truly I wish not to tumble below. I bring my eyes level with is there before me. The dark fire barren land on the other side of the chisom. Staring hard, some orange light brings lettering…. appears….. The word “death” calls in a whisper ….. My God, my God, it has come to this. I release a long, deep sigh , a sigh woman give but once in a crushed life…. So, it is time to leap. It is time to forever die….. But wait, there, I see an Angel sitting upon a marble chair. She looks bored. She does not look my way. I swallow and I pray up to her….. the very last prayer of a man standing before all the very worst can be…. and…. without my soul.

By: George Martorano
CR:12973
Date:1-8-12

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