At The Hips

Cherubim At My Hips

Sadness beckons at my soul, “C’mon, don’t you recognize me?”

I turn and say, “I knew you and if you’re a familiar friend…”

“But I want all of you. I want you depressed, in agony, in suicide.”

“Get away from me fucker.” I throw a stone at the Devil in his snarls.

Slowly he backs away. “I loved you and I still do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

God, my prayer is this. When we are in the Garden all alone we will not repeat the fall of Eve. We will not fall fool like Adam. We will not repeat the Fall with the sad whispers of jealousy and torment. Instead with every fiber of our being we will praise you. With every strength and all our mind we will love you God. In every instance, the cherubim turn their flaming swords against the devil at our hips. Our beauty and our strength is not false fruit of the false olive branch.

Get away from me Satan.


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