Gates Of Hell Poem by Kevin Carney

Standing upon the gates of hell…
Watching silently, lonely, and so cold…
Once an eye torn from the socket…
A hand, no longer there.
Skin, old and wrinkled, like aged leather.
Lifeless the limbs seem…
On a cold early winter’s night…
He stands silently…
Waiting patiently…
In that old graveyard.
He counts the new dug graves…
Looking and finding…
The old and young…
The beautiful and ugly…
The happy and sad…
Laughing, quietly, with that striking eye…
Finding the ones who will come…
Through the gates of hell.