The Correctional Officer stood and faced his God,
which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
just as brightly as his brass.
“Step forward now, Correctional Officer.
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To my church have you been true?”
The Correctional Officer squared his shoulders and said,
“No, Lord I guess I aint,
because those of us who carry badges cant always be a Saint.
I’ve had to work most Sundays,
and at times my work was rough,
and sometimes I’ve been violent.
Because inside the walls are awful tough.
But I never took a penny,
that wasn’t mine to keep,
I worked a lot of overtime,
when the bills just got too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
though at times I shook with fear,
and sometimes, God forgive me, I wept unmanly tears.
I know I don’t deserve a place among the people here.
They never wanted me around except to calm their fears.
If you’ve a place for me here, Lord, it needn’t be so grand.
I never expected or had too much, but if you don’t I will understand.”
There was silence all around the Throne,
where the Saints often trod.
As the Correctional Officer waited quietly,
for the judgment of his God.
“Step forward now, Correctional Officer,
you’ve borne your burdens well.
Come walk a beat on Heaven’s streets,
you’ve done your time in Hell.”

Author Unknown

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