Hope at Death

What good was it to be a “popular Joe”

When ghastly death, life’s final unfriendly foe,

Gives you that nasty, odd nod, and you most go?

 

Did popularity keep death far away?

Was it so fair, it kept death at distant bay?

Did fame make death late for even one more day?

 

The well known die as do the many unknown.

The grim reaper comes for every seed that’s sown.

 He, the product of sin, claims each as his own.

 

Death knows the address of the rich and the poor.

Knows each cell phone number, each palatial door.

Finds its victims on the first or the fifth floor.

 

Preparation for death is not fleeting fame,

Not to have acquired a saucy house-hold name,

Not to have piled up gold, silver (all the same).

 

One has suffered death for all, poor and well-to-do.

Christ is your only hope when death comes soon, for you.

Christ is all you’ll need when death’s door you pass through.

          – eab, 6/18/08

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