Through Heaven's Backdoor Poem by Smoky Hoss

The flowers at the front gate
are black-n-dead,
no longer do they live
beautiful-n-red -

On the shortcut into heaven
silence is the failure suffered most,
those front gates are fashioned of fine pearl,
the backdoor however, is gaurded by an old Navajo ghost -

If God falls asleep
I'll sneak up the back stairs...
save the golden-elevator
for the refined and fair -

I was 8 when the 13 year old bully
jumped me at the wood's edge,
stealing my lunch money.
I told him I still had a quarter in hand,
when he turned back toward me
I made the sign of the cross, blessed him...
and then, hit him hard...
with a two by four - after that,
I learned the back way home, and
have been taking it ever since -

Perhaps the gate to the Kingdom of Heaven is gaurded
by bullies, demanding lunch money,
but through the backdoor it's all grace
milk and honey -

One day Hemingway awoke
and decided on lead for breakfast,
having forgotten the usual
crumpets and tea,
and instead slipped through the backdoor
into Eternity -

Poets and dreamers
bullies and expatriots
wanderers and warriors, all alone,
must travel the backway, or
risk never finding their way home -

The door is cracked open,
we are all invited in.
The bullies return my lunch money.
I buy breakfast for Hemingway,
he smiles, there, wrapped in an old Navajo blanket.
We all, together, laugh and sing.
For here we are,
we made it home, all of us,
unnoticed.
Yet welcome. -

I believe there is a place where flowers yet bloom
in the dead of winter's hoar,
it's alongside the path
leading to Heaven's backdoor -