Something somewhat-painfully heavier than gravity
Drawing you toward the bottom,
Where the not-so-steep steps are crumbling,
The black blood-stained walls reeking of the
Sickly saccharine smells that turn your stomach
And transform you legs to mush, while you slide,
Half-conscious down the last six steps, the devil's
Gaze from behind the shadows pierce your burning eyes,
As your demons' arms are reaching out to help you,
Drag you. Down, down.

Pulling yourself together and freeing your arms
From the black, mangled fingers, you force your
Legs to take a step, another, and another.
The stairs become steeper, the demons'
Shrieks screaming in your head, you listen for
Your angels' nearly whispered songs,
The milk-and-honey harmonies lighten
Your feet and soothe your throbbing eardrums.
The angels' singing pulls at the strings of your heart,
In rhythm with the strings of their violins
-Pulse, pulse, pulse- (step, step, step).

Listening, weeping, choking on your tears, and
Gasping as the clean air fills your sticky, black lungs.
On your bleeding knees, your hands grasping for
Another step, and another.
The sky comes down on top of you, God's salty
Rainwater soaks your dirty skin, His voice joins
The angels', His son's hands rest on yours, and
A white dove lands on your shoulder. Trinity lifts you
Up the last seven steps, white beams of light pour from
Behind a magnificent golden gate, drenching your
Soul as Salvation's arms are reaching out to help you,
Raise you. Up, up.