Founded in the fall of 1991, Laurel Moon is Brandeis' oldest, national literary publication. Each issue we publish features original work from undergraduate students.
I hide in my room
and barricade myself with sound
when I hear her begin to pray,
when she thinks no one’s around.
I hear her urgent utters
and I imagine her spit.
In moments like this
I have no choice but to sit
and act like I am not afraid
of what is being fervently emoted.
“The blood of Jesus Christ compels you”
I hear as I wrestle with my fear of the deeply devoted.
Syllables pang against the walls
and jerk their way to my ears.
My shoulders stiffen up
as my hand clears
everything off my night table
hastily in search of headphones, music to distract,
but their discovery ends up delayed
and these words still have an impact.
I can’t bring these thoughts to her so that’s why I wrote it.
“The blood of Jesus Christ compels you”
I hear as I wrestle with my fear of the deeply devoted.
What could be brewing in the mind
where such anguished prayers are born?
Are the words sharper than two edged swords
enough to render a mother’s love torn
beyond repair? Is this my reality or is it simply a fear?
What made me want to rip my skin and empty my stomach
to help my God punish me when even He said wouldn't have done it?
What about the people I love
makes me believe His love has eroded?
“The blood of Jesus Christ compels you”
I hear as I wrestle with my fear of the deeply devoted.