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St. Peter

St. Peter

Ina Wroldsen

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In the middle of hell lies a little St. Peter
In a hospital bed burning up
With a cloth to his head, he is ridden by fever
And I can’t even tell whether the demons have won
And his mother is there with his brother tied to her back
Praying as hard as she can to a god in a land that I think he forgot
In the middle of hell where a death by mosquito
Is as everyday as my coffee or your cigarette
And she says «God bless me»
She says «God bless me»
And I shake my head
Cause I can’t see God in this hospital bed
But she says «God bless me»
She says «God bless me»
And I look away
But as she lets go of my hand for the first time in this place
I pray
Amen
Amen
I got plenty to give her but there’s nothing to offer
And the little I brought comes far too late
So I urge him to leave with a bottle of water
He is 7 years old, sleeping outside pearly gates
And his mother looks at me with eyes I will never let go
They are angry and sad beyond measure and mad with a childbearing love that I
know
In the middle of hell we just sit with each other
On a hospital bed begging for death to go home
And she says «God bless me»
She says «God bless me»
And I shake my head
Cause I can’t see God in this hospital bed
But she says «God bless me»
She says «God bless me»
And I look away
But as she lets go of my hand for the first time in this place
I pray
Amen
Amen
In the middle of hell lies a little St. Peter
In a hospital bed burning up
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