My Court Case

 

 

I sat in a court

Full of my peers,

Acquaintances, church brethren

And family were there,

 

A case called to decide

Whether I was crazy or not,

Please don’t be in a hurry

To determine my lot.

 

It was no one off incident

The prosecutor said

And I turned to see everyone

Nodding his head.

 

Up and down they nodded

Not left to right

And I recognized the magnitude

Of this legal fight.

 

I was unrepresented

So I was on my own

But I intended to fight it

Though all alone.

 

 

“For what am I being charged?”

I asked in my defense,

“For being crazy,”

This was the prosecutor’s offense.

 

“How can that be?”

I asked with incredulity,

Then pointed to all in court

And asked why only me.

 

“The mere fact of this case

Says the law must be crazy,

A court full of crazy people

And you charge only me.”

 

The judge tapped his gavel

On the table in front

And then complimented me

For making that point.

 

The prosecutor was enraged

And called the judge crazy

And the next thing I know

The court was in a frenzy.

 

 

“Order in the court!”

The judge called again and again

And when order was restored

He said, “You are all insane.”

 

During all of this racket

I was as quiet as can be

Whereupon the judge shouted out,

“You are all crazy!”

 

The prosecutor told the judge

“You should be on trial,”

And that’s when I observed

That they were both in denial.

 

The judge charged the prosecutor

For contempt of court,

The prosecutor shouted, “I appeal!

You got to be making sport.”

 

I sat there in court

With all these mad people at large,

The judge included

And I was the only one charged.

 

You must now be thinking

“What can this outcome be?”

What is there to think about?

They exonerated me.

 

Just my brief submission

Introduced by a single question,

And even the judge

Should be charge with dereliction.

 

 

“For what am I being charged?”

That is all I had asked

And that question alone

Had ripped off their masks.

 

I took over the bench

And reprimanded that court

For wasting my time

And making mock sport.

 

So all who think I am crazy

Examine yourself!

Mine is out in the open

But you operate with stealth.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019

 

 

Going Home

One of these days I’ll be gone

I’ll be on my way home,

Exactly when I’ll arrive there

To me that is still unknown.

My flight is already booked

And I have my visa too,

I’ve gone through immigration

My departure is in view.

Perhaps you are wondering

“Why this morbid thought?”

It’s because of recent happenings

It’s what death has wrought.

Many of my acquaintances

Are passing off the scene

Friends also and relatives

Yielding to death’s horrid scheme.

All around me they are falling

And I wonder who is next,

Still I am not overwhelmed

Though my appointed time is set.

I’m a little tired of funerals

They’re coming much too fast

And trying to attend them all

Is quite a daunting task.

Right now there are three

Three weeks ago I attended four

And taking that on average

There’s likely to be some more.

With the old it’s to be expected

But young limes are dropping too,

The old, the young and in between

The next one could be you.

Read the preceding verse again

And I trust that you would see

“The next one could be you”

Is pointing straight back at me.

  

This has been the trend

For over the last four years,

A funeral each week

Or on average quite near.

Hence you can now see

Why death is on my mind,

With my friends going so fast

I am thinking of my time.

But while I fear the unknown

It is not a hopeless fear

For I belong to Jesus

And to me that is very clear.

I have been born again

I’ve been washed in Christ’s blood

My sins are all forgiven

And in Jesus I am good.

I know that if I should die

Before this day is gone

I will be going home with Jesus

I won’t be going alone.

When I will I arrive there

I really don’t know

But my Lord will take care of that

Yes, he told me so.

“I go to prepare a place for you,”

That is what he said

And the only way I could live again

Is if I were dead.

Stewart Russell © October 2018