Till Death do they part

They were in love
Holding hands
Sharing glances
Smiling brightly
Laughing lightly

They were enemies
Knives in hand
Plotting threats
Counting costs
Hating the loss

They forgave
Falling tears
Abounding hugs
Finding grace
Kissing her face

They grew old
Raising kids
Working jobs
Growing wise
saying goodbyes

And then they were gone

Her

Her smile is sort of a half grin. She glances at me as we walk side by side down the street. The glimpse of that grin jerks my heart. The sun is hot but it's setting before us. A bead of sweat falls down from her brow down to her ear. I love that ear. I love her. We walk side by side down a road that neither of us knows where it will end. As the sun goes down, a cold gust from parts unknown chills us to the bone. She shivers but she is strong.

We stop for the night and build a small file beside the road. Old branches from trees long dead keep us warm. We talk of Jesus and Satan, Calvin and Luther, Plato and Socrates, Mises and Marx, and Abbott and Costello. Her mind is large and her imagination brimming. Our love is more than physical. It's spiritual and intellectual. It's respect, it's admiration without condescension, and it's passion. The night passes. She points up at Orion, the big dipper, and a dozen constellations that I couldn't quite make out and then she's out. I zip up her sleeping bag, kiss her forehead, and then curl up in mine. Our day tomorrow will be hard. It always is. She makes it worth it.

The Judge

From the corner of my eye stands a man. He's watching me without expression. I dare not turn my head, yet in that second my heart grows cold. He's watching. If I acknowledge him, will he vanish? Will he turn out to be a figment of my imagination? Or will the phantasm greet me with a scowl?

I've seen him before. From the edges of my periphery. He's a judge. Brooding, waiting for me. Waiting for me to fail. I can not plead innocence because I have none. I can not plead ignorance because I am not. My fate I await out of the corner of my eye.

Why does he not move? Why does he not stand, this man who sits in his chair and judges me. Is he a righteous angel come to strike me down for my sins or an agent from the netherworld who wants to see me in all my wickedness? I have done things of vile repute in my life. I have cursed those who deserve not and hurts those that I loved. Is this the long wait before my execution?

And yet I stand watching him from the corner of my eye like a frightened rabbit. I could plead forgiveness to God almighty. I could grovel for my life. Is there forgiveness for one such as I? A murderer, an adulterer, a fornicator, a liar, a deceiver, the son of perdition that I am? I drop to my knees and close my eyes to pray. I could feel death’s scythe closing over my neck.

I mumble a prayer of forgiveness. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy. Amen. I open my eyes and look.

Only my coat is draped over the chair in the form of a man.

I have an appointment in an hour. 

Repentance can wait a little while longer.