Judy C. Meeker
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I shall lock myself away from my own mind

and make myself humble.

I shall crawl through the dust and expell every ray

from my childish soul, and from the garden of my

human heart, I shall uproot all the lovely buds lest

they blossom and betray men into breaking the iron

curtain that seperates religion and love.

Religion will trample the white buds into the bloody

dust and announce me totally depraved; they will

make reason blasphemy; make pity a crime; and

paint the torments of my dammed soul on the walls

of their great churches, and my torment will never

die but grow poetic. My cries ascending from hell

shall be perfume to heaven, though I shall not die

as some, with a curse on my tongue and the face

of my mother on my heart...

 

Judy C. Meeker