Who cometh unto Satan?

Life is a heavy-bosom woman.
Her hemlock seeds shew upon me,
But her roots
I dare not touch –
For I flirt
But never caress;

For I am death.
I dare not pluck her orchard groves,
Yet I tempt her in faith,
As does the wicked charmer –
For through me he works his 
Crucifixion.

Life is a heavy-bosom woman,
Whom I have hung.
Life is a woman –
The holy spirit’s son.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Conn Avatar
December 23, 2025 at 11:28 PM
Well, a mirror has no tongue and cannot walk?
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace