An Inevitable Meeting

(Excerpt from ‘A Sliver of Chance’ by Brian Sankarsingh - reproduced with permission)

Photo by Ahmed Adly on Unsplash

Death levels the playing field with its finality and incongruity. The richest man who enjoyed a life of luxuries can die alone and unloved, while the poorest man may be surrounded by loved ones. Yet one unassailable fact is true for every single one of us; rich, poor, white or black, priest or sinner, we all have this meeting written in our future.

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Often when pursued by Fate,

The lives of men are guided straight

Into the embrace of the dead,

Therein to rest their weary head

Upon Death’s callous bosom, dread.

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For strive and struggle, as they may,

The hands of Fate to hold at bay,

She does reach forth;

Her icy fingers,

Upon their mortal necks, they linger.

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Despite our plans and worthless schemes,

One appointment still remains:

We are all guaranteed, alone,

A fateful date that’s drawn in stone,

To face our maker on His throne.

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He sits upon the darkened throne;

There he sits, but he alone.

Gazing out upon the earth,

As men took part in mindless mirth

Of all things good, there was a dearth.

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They did forget their fate to stand,

Underneath that throne, so grand.

There his judgement to receive,

For all their thoughts, words, and deeds.

For every race, religion, and creed.

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Then on their brow worry did show,

Beneath the frost and driven snow.

They tried to hide their lies and hate,

Thinking they could forestall Fate.

But on each soul was stamped a date.

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Oh man, now I see my mistake,

You cannot hide in dell or lake.

Soon will come your end of days,

And you too will stand, before that gaze,

After the number of your days

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Bio: Brian Sankarsingh is a Trinidadian-born Canadian immigrant who moved to Canada in the 1980s. He describes himself as an accidental poet, with a passion for advocacy and a penchant for prose, an unapologetic style, he offers his poetry as social and political commentary.

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