Will it be as a final capsizing;     

souls down-dragged by a life’s wreckage, 

swell-swallowed into Leviathan’s jaws? 

*

Will it be as Dante’s spiraled descent; 

eyes sealed shut by shame’s frosted tears, 

laments locked in, in Cocytus’ cruel crust? 

*

Or will it be a more modern Sheol;   

water boarded, lungs fear-filled, confessions 

coughed until there is enough to convict? 

*

Or could the judgement of God be as this: 

dawn’s tide on pebble hearts, softly lapping,

love-kissed into colour so we glisten in the sun. 

*

A gentle turning of the shell to reveal

a hidden pearl, or our broken fragments as shingle

gathered by His waters and made into music.