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His words stung me, as the cries from the maelstrom seem to retort
Their scattered, foreign words and wails retching their say
I listened, almost mesmerized,
Pulverized

“Come,” Said he,
With threatening authority

Upwards, higher than the balcony from which we stood,
A strumming low, harp-like instrument shook the pit,
As gigantic fingers masterful in song,
Plucked each bass twine, 
The claws tearing its percussion into screech-like echoes

“Will you not come?” He warned, waiting..
Mesmerized by the mysterious harping above,
I turned to face him and sang,

“Momentous tempo fleeting, I rest my creating,
My mind surmounting the nadirs breathing,
Hear their cries, oh Cruel One, 
Hear their sinking hearts beg all for none…

I remember such frenzy of travail,
I recall the despair of helplessness
Harpooning my heart with the sharp point of downfall
Draining, always bleeding
The broken feeling, the circular motion of never-ending grieving
Your demons rage and war,
In the undertones of this tragic score…”

My sorrowful alto voice crept through his skin,
Amusement spreading his smile,
Crawling through his skin and hairs

Turned toward the bright-lit maelstrom,
I continued: 
“I remember, as a daughter of the older world,
 A little girl, with big, confused eyes
The voices of the fallen ones crying to me,
Even in sleep,
They sang, ‘Come to us my child,
To the fiercely slain, and the wild
Save us from the wretched rot,
The desires we so foolishly sought
Our skin boiling in this traitorous hell,
In punishment toward all remaining, we swell
Our eyes bulged forever open to atrocities of all!’
They said, ‘You are no better than us, child…
Why then do we suffer as you stand watch?
Why must He spare one, and despair all rest?
Chosen, you? How partial! How we melt in ire and air,
Hell-bound and bent, forever impaired’
Pulling me near… gurgling within
To the shackles of truth, to the snares of sin…”

I turned to him, though eyes raised in recollection

“I felt the deepest sadness for these sufferers, 
Thinning to the bone, soiled in their excrement
Clawing and gripping the bars of their prisons,
Weeping the bloods of their inescapable pasts,
Eying my innocent soul,
Infuriated with no control
I pounded the earth below me, 
And begged the Eternal to silence their screams
‘Please, Lord,’ I begged, my head lowered,
The thumping worsening,
‘Show me where I am to rise,
Show me why…why do I remain alive,
As all of the dead curse my life!
And why should I, a child, remain?
In this obliteration around me, 
Oh poor, sagging world, still turning,
Why do you still hold me? 
Can you not see I have decomposed out of your soil?
How the bugs and pests crawl toward better meals,
To sustain their dreadful bellies…
Why, Lord, do I stand here alone again?’
Night swam on, sweeping me under the dust…
And He didn’t answer me, so I cried to the skies,
‘Can you not come to me, 
Descend from the heavens and stand as my equal!
I am only a child, my Lord, but I am Yours! 
And these wretches are dying over and over before me
Why do you allow me to watch this,
Again, and again, and again, 
As the animal fights to survive,
Trained to entertain the sick and alive…’
The agonizing moans prevailed, 
And I was left in the soiling questions,
Sinking within me, and around my prostrate  body….
A tiny, shaken girl, with an anger so threadbare to tears…
Lost in my nameless fears .”  


“Come, come!” He wailed, almost laughing with glee, dragging me,
Not able to withhold the sheer joy of my former woes…
I pulled away sharply, in ecstasy of turning tides,
The glow in my eyes sending  him back with every word

“And then, I saw the light, peaking through the blackened clouds!”
The Devil sustained his atrocious smile
“I saw the light as it shimmered down to my wakened hope,
And cooling rain splattered my forehead…”
Closing my eyes, I smiled, remembering the savory coolness
“He softly spoke, like a dream I had finally remembered,
For so long…so long, 
And He wrote it on my heart so I may never forget:
He said, ‘My chosen daughter, do not fret,
Your purpose now is closer yet
You are to raise your arms with this very light,
To reckon rashly the parched of sight
And their suffering is not in vain,
As they rise more faster than the downpour of rain
Listen here, forever more,
The end is naught but a beginning in store…
Their lives forever free, will rise every morning in glee
Every tear from their faces will dry in reveled graces
Their bodies, restored and cleansed,
Their hearts pumping for the joys it was made for
Love reigns just as mightily in the dark,
For Love is never hidden, as truth is written,
Do not fret, My child, do not cry…
In the trail of light, I have seen you fly,
And you will always fly, in My eyes,
The beautiful lark who sings too true shall rise…”

Against the wall, 
Cornered… silenced and hardened,
His stubborn smile faded, all glee lost in somber recoil
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