Surviving…

boat-man

Slowly, he sunk to the ground
His legs giving way in the mud
He tried and tried to get back up
But he was stuck there now
—- it did no good.

A perfect metaphor of his real life
Where he’d slowly fallen down
He’d done his best but it wasn’t enough
For he never succeeded
—-he viewed life through a frown.

And here he was, stuck as never before
Half way there, stuck, and not knowing
Should he pull himself out and carry on
Or should he give up and fall back
— and leave self-pity growing.

It comes to us all at some withering point
We get hurled to ground by a sense of disgust
The world then is no longer our oyster
As we reel from mistakes
—- in a life filled with distrust.

And at this crossroads we find ourselves
Will we crumble where others may thrive
Do we possess the courage it takes
To man up and gain
—- a chance to survive.

©Joe Wilson – Surviving…2016

ecce quomodo moritur justus…

Naked, he now stands before his maker
There’s no more pretence, no more lies
He carries no longer, his banal repartee
He waits, supplicant to hard probing eyes.

As a young man his heart had been so dark
He’d cursed and fought in the streets
And any young lady who’d caught his eye
He’d seduced her between the sheets.
Could he have lived a far better life
Surely, in decency everyone would
Now he never passed by on the other side
Doing the very best that he could.

And with age grew the man who now stands here
He hopes he’s made up for those days
A lifetime since then helping others
Might make up for his earlier ways.

Still the eyes probed him ever so deeply
Though the result we shall never know
Till the day that we have to stand there
When at last, it’s our time to go.

©Joe Wilson – ecce quomodo moritur justus…2015
‘Behold how the just man dies…’