Sometimes A Man Gotta Go Through
Hell To Get To Heaven
I walk the leaf strewn path
of least resistance.
Beneath my feet, the crunching
leaves remind me of the guy
who cracked my head for the fun of it
and like a
sliced down the middle,
a mass of bright red seeds
oozed languidly from the two inch
split in my skull and slowly flowed
into the bone dry fissures
of that crooked afternoon.
When my opponent laughed
at me, I noticed tiny green forests
growing through silver crevices
that resembled barbed wire
on a picket fence.
And as I lay in a pool of
my blood and wounded pride,
he approached me with abandon,
and when he kicked me in the side,
I nearly lost consciousness.
"That will serve ya, Kike!"
he yelled, readying
his foot for the next bone-crushing
I heard it slice through the
turgid air and when, by the grace
of God I caught it, his bravado
transformed immediately into the
white heat of fear. With all my might,
I thrust my locked hands skyward, and
watched him turn full circle
in the air, and then plunge screaming
into a thirty foot abyss.
When he struck the hood of the
rusted fifty-seven Chevy
below, head first, I celebrated inwardly.
For years he had ridiculed my faith,
abused me and excoriated my soul,
but he did not defeat me.
Some say that man can experience
heaven on earth, but first he might
have to go through hell to get there.
I know I did, and even though
a man had to die first,
I don't regret it for a moment.
Now don't get me wrong, I'm a peace
loving man, but sometimes just before
I fall asleep, I think about
what happened and sorta take pleasure in it.
Douglas E. Fireman
April 29th, 2003