Closer to Glory

© 2006 by Christopher and Maria Clymer Kurtz

He’s made it three days, and it’s been hell,
But he’s one step closer to glory.
Pull back the curtains; trembling hands
Pour another cup of coffee.
If he can make it through today
Maybe he’ll drink tomorrow.
With every second on the clock
He’s finding time hard to borrow.

He put the bottle on the stand,
Told God that in the morning
If the bottle was shattered on the floor
He’d take it as a warning.
First light of day, it’s still there,
Quite a bit more empty.
No worries God, it’s another day.

The folks he met three days ago told him,
“Just don’t buy it, stupid.”
Since then, eight meetings later,
He’s just starting to feel lucid.
He made a call to his ex-wife,
Dropped off his wallet and his keys.
He said, “I’m going to do this right.
I’ll soon be coming back for these.”

He could not go to sleep at night
Without the whiskey by his head. It’s breaking.
Life-blood taking, ground’s not shaking,
But his grasp is tight.

Purple pumps and black dress shoes,
Sunday company that he knew.
Now shaking hands and meeting eyes,
He tells the preacher “Good to see you.”
The money owed to his ex-wife,
She goes to court, forgives it all.
Each Friday night he and his boys
At the coffee shop down by the mall.

He put the bottle in the trash,
Told God that in the morning,
If the bottle was standing by his bed,
He’d take it as a warning.
First light of day, it’s still there,
From what he remembers
No worries, God, it’s another day.