I heard Heaven’s bells
tolling for my name.
Beckoning Death herself
to stake her rightful claim.
So, my Brother’s spade
cut Earth’s tender skin.
And pushed my Box, that Box,
passed life’s forgotten has-beens.
But when I arrived,
Peter was nowhere to be found.
Was I early? Or he late?
Undeterred, I wandered round.
In the corner, a staircase,
with glasslike planks, sat alone.
Curious, I followed those steps,
away from Angelic trombones.
Descending towards Earth
and her Wuthering Heights.
Above, watching male urges,
never fail to take flight.
Yet I yearned to be there,
amongst the people below.
So, God, grant me breathe anew
and rejoin life’s beautiful throe.