Saint of Faults Poem, by Gary Edward Geraci, at My poetic side

Pressured to capitulate; no! though bowled in and rock-bound,

Escarpments sheer, towering in on every side, with grit I gripped,

My fleshy fingers, ripped ragged, food for sharp, frigid, flint edges,

I clawed my way out and rose only to find myself before the Judge.

The disgrace, the wondering thoughts, the invaders from history,

I’ve overcome. now, this Penitentiary, I welcome.

The presentation of one’s whole life; purification; I tremble,

Shake at the prospect; a Just Judge with rights to one’s innermost space.

A fugitive in hiding, a convict behind a pleasant façade, (a banished soul?);

Before God Almighty, all is revealed. I’ll

serve my penance -

A purgatorial sentencing - reparations and atonement for all that is due,

His Justice severe, merciful and fair, forever cleansing, cleansed forever!

The steep heap of past sins, rehashed, replayed; condemnable.

Commendable: the saintly struggle, the arduous climb,

The saint of faults. for my final days were spent in strife but

I didn’t strive alone -a beggar of grace - I too took up my cross so that one day, I too could rise anew.

Gary Edward Geraci

Comments +

orchidee December 17th, 2022 10:52
I expect you know that in the Protestant and some other views there is no purgatory. By the time of our final judgement, it's too late for purgatory or to do penance.
Doggerel Dave December 17th, 2022 17:50
Such a vivid picture you paint, Gary.
Evokes a similar feeling to a gallery Old Master.
You should know that "past sins, rehashed, replayed; condemnable" happen as memories to me sometimes now.
It is relief that I know I won't have the journey you describe so richly. Thanks for the experience though..

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