We Will Be Judged

By Kam Whitaker

        Years ago, when I was in Catholic school, the bible was read to me like a gift from God– We were taught in masses that the scripture is law and is to be abided by. Only I seemed to notice  the same words praising the Lord as good were synonyms for the promise that we will all be damned. We laid with our legs and arms intertwined in a darting silence. You, still believing the prophecy, arbitrarily asked what I would do in my last days before judgment. You suggested visiting a chapel, speaking to a priest, or taking time for praise.  I could only sigh because although I could not bring myself to believe in a God, you were adamant that there was and always has been one. It is said in the Holy Bible that the last days will consist of a final judgment: a raging war of preaching to the choir. Humans will be seen as lambs and your God will decide who is slaughtered, and although I have my doubts, the day the apocalypse arrives, I will beg for Him to let you stay.

        If the world was ending I would continue to hold you as though the sky could never collapse. I will not repent for my sins because, darling, my worst sin has always been you. Temptation and lust fill my veins in your presence, but begging for forgiveness whilst knowing I will crave you over and over again is a sin in itself. I would remain calm and understand that the book of Revelations is dramatic, simply a twisted fairytale. As the Earth separated into fragments of what it once was, your God arising from roots, I would sin again. I would lie to you. I would tell you that everything will go according to plan. We will travel to places we’d only ever imagined in black and white, waiting for the color. We would stay in a one bedroom apartment and, although we’ll never wed, I shall always lay next to you. 

        If with you I sin, I’m not quite sure I could ever be holy. 

        But, when the apocalypse arrives, I will board up the doors and windows. I will sit by the porch and mute the silence with your favorite books. I will kiss you as though nothing has changed. I will worship you as though you are divine and I will confess my wrongdoings to you, praising you as though ‘thou shall not have any other gods before me’ was a suggestion, simply an error in the regulations.

        And when the world ends because I am a sinner bound to a saint, I will have no regrets in my heart. I love you, Darling. 

        What’s more holy than that?

        Years ago, when I was in Catholic school, the bible was read to me like a gift from God– We were taught in masses that the scripture is law and is to be abided by. Only I seemed to notice  the same words praising the Lord as good were synonyms for the promise that we will all be damned. We laid with our legs and arms intertwined in a darting silence. You, still believing the prophecy, arbitrarily asked what I would do in my last days before judgment. You suggested visiting a chapel, speaking to a priest, or taking time for praise.  I could only sigh because although I could not bring myself to believe in a God, you were adamant that there was and always has been one. It is said in the Holy Bible that the last days will consist of a final judgment: a raging war of preaching to the choir. Humans will be seen as lambs and your God will decide who is slaughtered, and although I have my doubts, the day the apocalypse arrives, I will beg for Him to let you stay.

        If the world was ending I would continue to hold you as though the sky could never collapse. I will not repent for my sins because, darling, my worst sin has always been you. Temptation and lust fill my veins in your presence, but begging for forgiveness whilst knowing I will crave you over and over again is a sin in itself. I would remain calm and understand that the book of Revelations is dramatic, simply a twisted fairytale. As the Earth separated into fragments of what it once was, your God arising from roots, I would sin again. I would lie to you. I would tell you that everything will go according to plan. We will travel to places we’d only ever imagined in black and white, waiting for the color. We would stay in a one bedroom apartment and, although we’ll never wed, I shall always lay next to you. 

        If with you I sin, I’m not quite sure I could ever be holy. 

        But, when the apocalypse arrives, I will board up the doors and windows. I will sit by the porch and mute the silence with your favorite books. I will kiss you as though nothing has changed. I will worship you as though you are divine and I will confess my wrongdoings to you, praising you as though ‘thou shall not have any other gods before me’ was a suggestion, simply an error in the regulations.

        And when the world ends because I am a sinner bound to a saint, I will have no regrets in my heart. I love you, Darling. 

        What’s more holy than that?