A Year of Stories (Collection Three)

Four Times You'll Knock

Knock once, though your limbs will feel like lead,

And keep your eyes safely ahead,

And remember all the blood you've bled,

Both yours and those who now lay dead.

Knock twice, they hear you, that I'm sure,

But they are rich, and you time poor.

They'll have you wait, a little more,

So that you understand the score.

Knock thrice, ignore the pain, the fear,

Your eyes, by now, bereft of tears,

Focus your mind on breathing breath,

Beating your heart within your chest.

Four times you'll knock, and hear their steps,

Their whispers under baited breath,

Will they decide to let you in?

How dearly have they weighed your sin?

Against a feather that they claim,

Must weigh more than your mortals shame,

For if your soul is heavier still,

When they have judged you kill for kill,

The door they guard will remain secure,

And you will wander, ever more.