The Angels purge

My end in sight,
The long death strewn path,
Stretched out before me,
Leading to the open mouth of my early grave.
Dirt cast wide like a welcoming embrace.
The loving grains of the earth’s depths soon to encase me.
Her cold unforgiving weight to crush me
Till I am no more than bleached bones.
My flesh her sustenance, that rejuvenating mother
My only purpose to feed the earth.

The sickly stench of pain and rot,
Like the poison of a bog overwhelms,
The parasites of fear infiltrate,
And the all-consuming hopelessness
Leave us little more than living corpses.
Starved of hope,
Our cries for nourishment fall on deaf ears.
Like perpetual ghosts in life,
We could only watch and wait for oblivion.

Through the fog of death,
The Angels stormed,
Their boots thundering,
A metal rain of bullets
Purge the devil camp.

Blinded by the majestic light
Of hope they brought.
We the yearning beggars reach,
For the salvation they promise.
It came in a radiant smile,
An offered hand
And the rekindled hope of a future,
Free from a living purgatory.