Heaven's Wrestling Card

When the lights in the arena
go on for the last time,
and the spotlight hits the announcer
as he makes the "quiet" sign.
From inside the squared circle,
the last time they call my name,
may I always be remembered,
for who I was and not just for fame.

I wrestled for a living,
lived with conflict all my days.
Sometimes I lived on the good side.
Sometimes I had evil ways,
but always I was a contender
and a cut above the rest,
and always I was in there trying
just to be among the best.

So when Heaven calls for wrestlers
and the word comes down from afar,
please Lord, at least allow me a spot
somewhere on the undercard.
I promise that all those angels
will get a damn fine show.
Please Lord, when you need wrestlers,
call me, I'll be ready to go.

Author's Note: I wrote this poem in 1998 after a particularly exciting wrestling show that had a rather sad beginning. All the workers filed out in a solemn procession and lined up around the ring. 10 bells rang out in acknowledgement of the life of a wrestler passed away recently to that date. My mind drifted, as it does, and I tried to capture the wrestling soul in verse.
~ Bob Liddil May 2006