The Last Caravan

November 28, 2011

Five souls now embark on their final journey
To reach where they’ll stay for eternity.
Guarded and watched by my all-seeing eyes,
They walk along the path towards their new lives.
I flew unseen and silent to their ears,
As I followed their lives, through pain and tears.
Their joys and sorrows, I felt them all
Weave into my heart, as they now fall
Towards the spirit realm. I began to feel
A sense of relief from head to heel,
As through me the knowledge passed,
That this caravan would be their last.
None of their hearts are black or white,
For no mortal is a perfect judge of wrong or right,
But none were spared the guilt and remorse
Caused from the mistakes they made along the course.
This is the balance that life had to draw,
And thus it stays as earthly law.
Each of them shall share their own life’s tales,
And each will have to acknowledge their fails.
Only they can purge the darkness in their heart,
And thus, shall the five on their journey now start.

The Atheist

His eyes met the ground in a stubborn glare,
And wherever he was he didn’t care.
He died at the age of fifty-seven
And knew for sure that there was no heaven,
No hell, nor any type of afterlife,
“Gods and religions just cause strife.”
He was raised by a strict Catholic mother,
Who day in, day out would constantly smother
Him with passages from her Holy Book.
With a pointing finger and condescending look,
She’d say, “Don’t do that or you’ll go to Hell.”
It made him want to fight back and yell.
Resenting her, he firmly decided,
That religion was a thing to be derided.
He mostly kept it to himself, it would be rude
To assault everyone with his attitude.
There were times he told someone off,
For trying to force religion, and left in a huff,
But by far the worst moments of his life,
Were when he fought with his wife.
By the time she filed the divorce,
His heart condition was getting worse and worse.
All alone he couldn’t take the strain,
He had a heart attack and was buried in the rain
With a small group of family and friends.
His mother sobbed and wished he’d made amends
With God, for surely he’d go to hell
Since he didn’t believe when he fell.
Now he looks around and scratches his head,
Thinking he must still be in a hospital bed.
Comforting himself that it’s just a dream,
He’s going to take it hard it would seem.
But perhaps he’ll find comfort in a new friend
On this caravan to beyond the end.

The Teenager

It’s never a happy event to see
Someone so young come to meet me.
A junior in high school, he was so excited
For his senior year, and delighted
About life in general, a free happy spirit
With a laugh that could cheer up anyone who’d hear it.
A child who shot that soccer ball into the goal,
At a speed like that of the dustbowl.
But no one could ever see his bright grin again.
Because one day on the field, he was going for the win
And was struck with a freak blow to the head.
They gasped as he fell, but no one expected he’d be dead.
But his death was not an instant one.
He lay still in the hospital day after day
As his little sister asked why he was sleeping.
And he couldn’t comfort his mother’s weeping.
His girlfriend’s hand clung to his own,
“I can’t go on without you” she’d moan.
The doctor suggested, voice sad and low,
That it might be best to just let him go.
They never knew he could hear them speak
As he laid there unmoving, powerless and weak.
He tried his best to scream and fight,
But could only lie still all day and night.
His heart broke when his parents whispered through a hug,
That they had decided to pull the plug.

The Homosexual

Everywhere he looked he saw persecution,
Everyone in the world sought his execution.
Every glance that was tossed his way,
Was a “look,” just because he was gay.
If they said, “I wouldn’t, that’s not true!”
He’d scoff and say, “You’ll get what’s due.”
Respecting him was obviously a special priority,
He deserved it because he was a minority.
He alienated everyone who wasn’t his kind,
Like they did to him, so they shouldn’t mind.
Poor child, treated like a dirty mutt,
Too bad it was an excuse to act like a butt.
But even many like him concurred,
That his personality really deterred
Them, and also thought it was sad
That he always made them look so bad.
What led him to me was a fateful day,
That left him alone in an alleyway.
Some alleged friends of his conspired,
Since of his attitude they’d grown tired,
To ditch him, by himself on the street.
“He can go home on his own two feet.”
Though their intention was only that,
Problems arose from a “friendly” chat
He’d gotten into with a shifty man.
While it would have been smarter if he ran,
Instead he ran his mouth and learned far too late
That if you choose the wrong person to berate,
You might end up with a knife in your chest,
And on the concrete be laid to rest.
His funeral was sparsely attended,
As there were few he’d truly befriended.
None of his ex-boyfriends found time to come,
Though several celebrated over rum.
The friends who ditched him came out of guilt.
Those were perhaps the strongest friendships he’s built.
It’s surprising how many good things one can say
About someone only after they’ve passed away.
But the most heartfelt eulogy anyone does,
Is his mother, saying what a special boy he was.

The Police Officer

Her strong brown eyes were set with a deep pain,
But under a mask of calm professionalism she’d feign
Serenity. And those who tried to sympathize she pushed away
With an empty smile and “It’s fine, I’m okay,”
Because not one of them understands
The feeling of having blood on their hands.
Nine times she pointed and shot,
Nerve’s tense, blood rushing and hot,
And stole another’s life, leaving them dead
With blood pouring from their chest or head.
They’d say, “He’s a killer, he deserved to die,”
But all she thought was “So am I, and so do I.”
She washed her hands till they were red and raw,
But every single time, all she still saw
Was red all over them, caked under her nails,
And blank dead faces in front of her. She fails
To control her tears, weeping into the sink,
Wanting to die so she won’t have to think.
But she couldn’t abandon her duty to protect
The innocent, so she chose to reject
Thoughts of suicide and wiped her tears,
Clenched her fists and pushed back her fears.
She threw herself back into the flurry,
The man across from her drew his gun in a hurry.
She pointed her own, ready to kill,
And squeezed the trigger against her will,
But it didn’t fire, her gun was jammed.
And before she could fix the weapon in her hand,
Three deafening bangs pierced the air.
The first bullet missed her by a hair,
The second grazed a red gash on her side,
And as the convict ran to hide,
The last bullet pierced through her heart.
She could hear her colleague dart
To her side to try to stop her from bleeding out,
But she had accepted the deadly rout.
She smiled and said hoarsely, her throat dry,
“This is… this is a good way to die.”

The Wicca

Those who loved her stated her wisdom and care,
Along with beautiful eyes and long red hair.
A smile and acceptance to anyone she’d see,
And a happy farewell of “Blessed Be.”
They all worried when her head started to ache,
Day after day like it was pierced by a stake.
She didn’t want to be dragged to a doctor,
And though for it no one mocked her,
Still they took her to the hospital against her will
Since they couldn’t stand to see her so ill.
After she was examined, the doctor looked grim,
And said to her, looking over his glasses rim,
“I really wish you’d come to us sooner,
I’m sorry… But you’ve got a malignant brain tumor.”
She refused to stay and passed through the gate
Knowing The Lady, her Goddess, would decide her fate.
Whether she’d stay on Earth or depart to the Summerland
Wasn’t to be decided by a mortal doctor’s hand.
The medication that she was prescribed
Was never opened or taken as they described.
It sat on her kitchen counter undisturbed,
She preferred the way of nature and its herbs.
Each day she’d drink her own healing draught
But it didn’t provide the recovery she sought.
Others of her faith questioned and plead,
But it was too late for the damage to be relieved.
In the end she realized her mistake,
Overcame her stubbornness and began to take
That medicine of man, but it was too late.
Death was already written in her fate.


“Please hear my whispers in your ears
As I follow along and comfort your fears.
I watch you clash and laugh and worry,
As you five review your own life’s story.
This will be the final barrier for you to break,
And I can only watch as you take
This leap. Follow the path to your resting place,
A destiny of many a name and face.
Do not fear, I’ll meet you there, overjoyed,
And I’ll bid you welcome into the void,
I shall guide you along with my hand,
To Heaven, afterlife, Summerland.”

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