Death, Where Is Your Victory?

By Sherry Bach

I feel you coming

As if I could almost smell you

It was a few years back that I became ever so aware of your persistent calling

Making believe I am not home while you are ringing the doorbell to pick me up for dinner is no use

You can see through the closed door

The locked window holds you back no more

You are there and yet, I know not the time dinner will be served

Although I know that the food will be the best meal I have ever eaten

I still long to wait as the hunger grows

A little while longer to sort out the top from the bottom

Soaking in the joys with which I have been blessed

Trying to grow in letting go of small annoyances and short sufferings and giving them no glory

While I gain pleasure in watching the seeds He has watered grow and mature

Knowing that in a short time you will bring me to a banquet where there will be no tears or sorrow

You think you are stealing something from me but you do not hold the keys to Heaven or Hell

Where flying without an aircraft makes no sense to the earthly mind

You come to take my breath away

But as soon as you do I will be with Him

It will be glorious

No shortness in it

Back and forth I go

Begging for release from the vessel that holds me here

And the struggle to ward off fiery arrows

To begging for the sight of evidence of birth in those I have borne

Hiking through the mountains one more time

Gatlinburg at Christmas

Hand dipped foot long corn dogs and funnel cakes

A foot stomping bluegrass song about your enemy

No it does not appear you will win this day

For what is winning when you lose either way?