Priest of Darkness
By Terra Wolfe
My
mother’s doctor, oh black priest,
how
she came to you in perfect faith
worshiping
your gods of science.
How
cynically you turned her pride to liquid
dissolving
even her bones in your evil potions.
Cut
it off with knives, cut it off with darkness, burn it off with poison.
Your
alter drips with the blood of her mind.
Witches
would have been kinder.
Brewed
herbs, sacrificed reptiles,
chanted
earth power to ease her tired soul.
She
could have risen with stronger blood
from
their honest ministrations.
A
wise word could have saved her when she entered your shrine.
Instead
you painted ups and downs into false perspectives
disorienting
even her natural knowledge of healing.
Now
not even a god could clean the chemistry
that you created of her mind.
When
you finally knew you had injured her
you
simply sedated the scream.