By Savyonne Steindler

 You bound your children to the altar of God
Securing their limbs with tethers of hesitation
Full of piety, you gave a humble nod
And raised your shimmering blade of condemnation

There was no angel of heaven
To stay your eager hand
Your clear resolve would not weaken
You’d fulfill this demand

The Lord on high sinks perplexed
Into His bejeweled throne
Furrowing His brow, quite vexed
That you thought He would condone

On that day you offered up
The heirs to your guilt and grief
God sits too stunned to disrupt
As you pull knife from its sheath

Illustration by Savyonne Steindler

Click to Enlarge

Published on page 16 of the Winter 2012 issue of Leviathan.

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