Within the Human breast, it’s said, a Beast
Resides, and fills our mind with vices, and
Prices the list of lusts it needs to feast
And grow, to take over Mankind’s souls. Sand

In hourglass form is mourned when Self meets
I in reflective mirrors, there are no
Easy 'feels' with self-observation’s heat.
The Flagellate understands, to be new,

Again, to be reborn, the Savior must
Convert self-scorn into - self-love, a feat
Of resurrection stymied by heart’s lusts.
An incomparable battle, to beat

The Flagellate at its own game. A shame,
Really, as Saviors are not all they claim.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 9/24/05