Why Lie about it?
I am the devils' advocate.
His veiled language occupies me.
And I find comfort in hiding behind the blinds,
velveteen drapes are just overkill.
I made my bed,
built these worlds in my head,
for Him to roam. As his advocate,
I make room, rearranging if I have to.
How hospitable, how despicable of me.
He’s a master weaver like the arachnid,
who cross stitches the eyes of my soul-
shut tight, like the dead, with X’s for eyes.
I hang on these invisible threads,
they are the fibers of my Being.
As though I needed Him as an ally
just to get by. Triumph, I will never win.
He’s louder than me in volume.
And voluminous, illuminous He appears
to me, to Be, eternally.
Thou shall not deny or preach,
the other side- Lies-in all of us-
the devil knows
whose side we are on.
Did you hear His solicitous speech?
Image of painting by Santiago Rusiñol [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons, c. 1890's Figure Study.
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