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Monster

August 22, 2019

If you’ve ever met a demon, you’ve known leashes, locks, and ties,

you’ve known every filthy fingerprint that’s lined you with its lies.

If you’ve ever met a demon, you’ve let pretty pretense go,

because surely it’s no monster if it’s here to help you grow.

It whispers that it’s best for you. Obey, and let me live.

You see the knives behind its back, but you forgive, forgive, forgive.

A monster grasps your hand and pours you tea beside his grave,

but his words are only pretty till you find yourself a slave.

A monster claims to love you with its lie-drunk, maddened tongue;

its fluent fabrications are like smoke that haunts your lungs.

It will trace its hand along the truth that weaves your basket heart,

but it will twist the reeds until you think the ending is the start.

It will tell you that you’re safe enough to wander as you please,

but the grace you left behind won’t be as free on bended knees.

A monster wields your weakness like a rhythmic, scheming blade,

then wags a finger in your face for every slip you’ve ever made.

Why should heaven want the broken, the defeated, and the flawed?

Why should those with sins and scars be called before the face of God?

A monster tunes and beats your eardrums till its voice is all you hear,

and the truth within your basket seems too small to see it clear.

Its lies are present; they are haunting, and they never leave your mind—

but what would fill the space if you could leave its voice behind?

I’d say a monster leaves you numb, but leaving’s not its game,

and if you had a weapon waiting, it’d dodge your every aim.

But one thing it is scared of; one corner of the light

blinds its eyes, ties its hands, and makes it flee in fright.

You know that on your own, your weakened legs could never run,

but you can also know this light, and it is sword and shield in one.

So listen close, my calloused weaver, with your basket heart in hand,

a monster cannot twist your truth if you refuse to let him stand.

Listen close, my weary archer, before the arrow tastes the air,

that the best defense your soul can have is weapons forged in prayer.

13 Comments

  1. Savannah Grace

    Still one of my most favorite-ever poems.

    Reply
  2. Bree Dawn

    Honestly this might be my new favorite poem. It’s beautiful, poignant, and painfully accurate. <3

    Reply
  3. Emily

    Wow, this is beautiful and convicting. I love it.

    Reply
  4. Joseph Clotfelter

    This is one of the best poems I’ve ever read!

    Reply
  5. Emma Starr

    So meaningful, Cindy!! The rhyme is flawless. <3

    Reply
  6. Shannon Voeller

    Soo impressive! A++ imagery…you were painting pictures for me!

    Reply
  7. Rhia G. Adley

    Beautiful imagery! It’s thoughtful, deep. Me likey very much:)

    Reply
  8. Ariel Ashira

    WOAH, and I mean seriously WOAH THIS IS ONE OF MY FAV POEMS EVER. The truth of it really hit me in the chest, and the imagery is just incredible. *high five so hard you fall over*

    Reply
  9. Lindsi McIntyre

    This is absolutely beautiful, Cindy!

    Reply
  10. Hannah

    This is beautiful, and you expressed your thoughts with such clarity!

    Reply
  11. Cassandra Hamm

    Love this poem, Cindy. Nice job. So powerful.

    Reply
  12. Isabelle

    Wow, this is amazing! Such a powerful truth for our everyday battles with sin.

    Reply
  13. Josiah Baker

    This is an awesome poem! Thanks for sharing this!

    Reply

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