Holiness drips from your
mouth like ichor where
your wisdom teeth
crack and
break under
the strain of
stammered prayers and
gasped pleas and
fractured promises, and
when yo spit out
tooth and
bone and
blood to
rise from the dust and lift
your blind eyes to the sky,
your halo shatters into something
twisted and beautiful.

Nonbeliever, run from the house of the Lord.
Nonbeliever, hide from the wrath of the Lord.
Nonbeliever, flinch from the strength of the Lord.
Nonbeliever, why have you come here?
Nonbeliever, what has brought your hands together?
Nonbeliever, sink not to your knees, for
they are scraped and bloody and absolution
can be found in the ground beneath your feet.

The Devil stands behind you and
the Lord looms above you and
He grasps for a ring of
light and
gold and
glass filament only
to have His hands come back ashen and
bleeding from the same broken shards that
have pierced your skull,
and the Devil laughs because
your hair is matted and
your lips are chapped
and your eyes can see.

Nonbeliever, list your sins.
Nonbeliever, carry your cross.
Nonbeliever, light your pyre.
Nonbeliever, why have you come here?
Nonbeliever, what has brought your teeth together,
what has pulled your lips back,
what has broken your halo?
Nonbeliever, repeat not the words of the Lord or
the prayers of the Son, for
He has no need for false fealty,
for the truth of the Fall.

You are fire and earth,
you are water and air,
you are
blood and
bone and
heartstrings that
pull and
break and
mend and
you have made a scythe of
the chain that bound you.
A man died for you and he was a man.
A man killed for you and he was a man.
A man broke you and he was a man.
A man Created you and He was a Man.

Nonbeliever, face the Lord.
Nonbeliever, spit at the Lord.
Nonbeliever, raise your chin to the Lord.
Nonbeliever, why have you come here?
Nonbeliever, what has brought yourself together?
Nonbeliever, turn not away,
for your halo shattered not of His volition,
and the broken curve that circles your head
matches that in your hand,
that of the being behind you.

Life seeps
from your
heart and
your breast and
your center, and
He who calls Himself Creator
is not, will never be.
The hand that grips yours is
small and
calloused and
strong, and
the blood that paints your thighs
strikes fear into Man.
A high voice gives you a name,
gives you power, gives you strength,
and you face the Lord and
pain and
truth and
life drip
to the ground,
for the Devil protects Her Sisters.

― womanhood is more than holy

Oct. 18-19, 2018