This poem is my attempt to talk about that pesky bit of Christian teaching called hell in English. Never mind that the word itself was appropriated from Norse creation stories; the fact is that it is a source of consternation for many of us. I am of the opinion that we tend to make our own hells on earth, and if we persist in them, we will make the new creation a hell for ourselves as well. And just a hint: if the answer is yes to any of these questions, then Lord, have mercy!

Some Questions

Ah! Will we want what once we had

When grass no longer withers,

When glory gilds the smallest insect,

Bathing its once-brief being in beauty

Before our new-gathered, now-graced senses?

Will we long for less than all

When all is what we have,

When lack no longer lights the way

To grief and grasping greed,

And more than enough comes at last to meet us?

Do we fear to find forever,

Our days and nights too dear to us

To let them drop down dead,

Their dance of dying deified

When now and then, soon and late, inherit always?

Is hell a haunting of unending want,

A wishing for what was amid festal fire,

A seeking for solace in what cannot come again

In the face of ancient brokenness now healed

By the wounds of its killed and risen King?

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