The Fall

I wasn’t sure if it was malevolence or denial
that caused her curious behavior.  Or perhaps simple
Hippocratic hubris — of being better.

Either way, she was damaging others
right, left and center.  Questioning their intentions
in her lilting Mother Earth voice. Making believe
she was there to serve others.

Yet, for all her righteous indignation, there
was a metallic smell to her being, the nervous
sweat that reeks due to fear.

Her fear? Being caught, questioned, and
being made accountable to those
on whose backs her position was made.

Fear that when her lying perfidy was caught
that they, in their vengeance, would do to her
what she had done to them.

But life, being what it is, doesn’t work
that way. Instead, her soul is being consumed
bit by bit, by her own guilt.  A festering wound
not cured by psychiatry or prayer, but by
confession and repentance.


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