The battle between God and the Reaper. Life and Death. Self and Same

For my creative writing class I had to write a poem in which a member of my family met someone famous.
Here: My Grandfather (the I) meets first death, then God. I hope it is clear that both are perversions of the same (here labeled he and she)
It's a thinkerthough. I don't really expect anyone to get it, but if you do I hope you enjoy the implications in its perversity.

Self and Same
They battled themselves
The man stood there before us.
Black robes and a pale face.
He held in his blood-stained hand
Hate. And hers. He was my enemy.
She held my ground.
He bore the scars of the barbed-wire fences
Bloody arms, bloody face, bloody mess.
She turned to show my tears to the crowd
Like waves, the screaming began.
The crowd turned on us
She held my ground.
She turned to him instead.
The man before me Beating the man behind her
She stood in the way of the blade he swung
She stood for the lives of so many.
His fist raised itself to strike me but she
She held my ground.
Bracing her-self for love and pity's sake
She would not let him hurt that man;
Not without dying in defense.
She looked at this reaper-man, full of tears and anger
The reaper looked at me.
She held my ground.
As he swung to hit me, driven by dark cruelty
His scythe arching high in contempt
In mournful misery he aimed his punishment
In tearful distaste for the cost he must ration
Before me he wept and he died.
She held my ground.
For many years, she held my ground
She refused to let me die.
Every attempt was torture for me
It hurt them both to die each day.
They mocked me, but would never let me die.
She held my ground
Against the reaper each day
And I fought her for freedom and death.
I sought no protection and met him one day
She turned, they became one and I met Him
‘Till then… God held my ground.