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Friday, September 20, 2013

Wrath

a cold shoulder, a sweaty head, a pale face
nothing seems to fit

I watch
silent words from a boisterous mouth
crinkling my fingers around my
hidden secret buried

he spoke nonsense again yet
the cult beamed with sparkling eyes as if
he was the Word of God

questions arise for my future as the
fire burned my cradling of the Book

***

confession;
a gift from the Above to feel sane
time to admit my sins to the ultimate sinner
black shadows of the Savior
show me the way for salvation

he smiled to ease the ooze spilling out of my sickened soul;
a gesture to burn my corpse as flames enhanced his remarks         
his confessions were no greater than mine

to begin my destiny I had to end his fate
pushing my way towards the Devil himself
my secret no longer buried
may God be with you, my son
show forth the devil that lies within

***

without a pair of wings behind me
I walk through the shadow of the
valley of death, yet
I do not fear evil

with my hands disguised in blood
I push open the pearly gates

My son! St. Peter says
I smile and let out a laugh as
I wipe my hands clean
on his white robe





First appeared in Whispers VII: A Collection of Short Works, published by Greenspring Publishing (2009)


© author, Andrea Laws (2008)