Doors to heaven take many shapes
Doors to hell but one.
Wimpled children sitting there
Given to the church
Upon the altars sacrificed
For sins of parents
Atonement wearing black and gray
Payment of a debt,
Or gratitude for favors shown
What sin, what boon
Demands a daughter in return?
Proud prophets speak
Of purity, of blameless lives
Preserved from sin
But sin, they say, is human state
Common to us all
Impossible to avoid.
Circling shields of prayer
Are pervious to their sin.
No wall as yet made
Strong enough to hold back self
No scourge-striped back
Removes the taste of humanity.
Does the church not know
Sanctity of life ex utero?

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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