For our July issue, we want to read poems that address "the end" as an apocalypse that is perhaps near, perhaps very distant, and may be destruction or revelation.”
an interesting picture
of the end of the world,
if you ask me.
(Which nobody did,
I’ll grant you.)
“But understand this,
that in the last days
there will come times of difficulty,”
he says.
And then he tells it like it is.
“For people will be…”
(Just check out this list.
And shudder and squirm a little.)
“Lovers of self
Lovers of money
Proud
Arrogant
Abusive
Disobedient to their parents
Ungrateful
Unholy
Heartless
Unappeasable
Slanderous
Without self-control
Brutal
Not loving good
Treacherous
Reckless
Swollen with conceit
Lovers of pleasure
rather than lovers of God
Having the appearance of godliness,
but denying its power.
Avoid such people."
And so it is
That I find myself
Alone.
In the dark.
Avoided.
At least by those convinced they’re
good enough to do the avoiding.
And that I’m “such people”
(Which I am, let’s just admit.)
And who isn’t, really?
Did you even read the list?
And while Paul has me there—
Avoided, huddling alone in the dark
Peter has me
Exposed.
“But the day of the Lord will come
like a thief,
and then the heavens
will pass away
with a roar,
and the heavenly bodies
will be burned up
and dissolved,
and the earth
and the works
that are done on it
will be exposed.”
And so I huddle under my fig leaves
Seeking shelter.
Or covering.
Or mercy.
Or something good amid all this bad.
And await the Last Days.
Hiding in God
From God.
“Surely goodness
Surely mercy
Will follow me
All the days of my life
And I will dwell
In the house
Of the Lord
Forever”
Well, maybe.
One can only huddle
And hope.
And fall on grace.
© 2025 Laurie Sitterding
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