Baby Seed: Chapter Three Poem by Lonnie Hicks

Step by step her fate clicked, her hand shook,
her heart mixed, of love for him, and love for Him
and love for her baby seed.

She could see him past the portal, sitting sternly so
as she approached, hands firm on the Throne arms
she moved with caution born of fear-and fear of scorn;
he offered no smile, no gesture as she drew near
no hint solace would be offered or given
til full face she stood his countenance aglimmer
a stifflied mix; anger, hurt, pain, mistrust and yes
shards of what
she guessed were the remains
of his love for her, now strangled, thrust aside,
to trash bin heap
barely discernible inside the cauldron of the seethings
and remonstrances boiling in his soul.

She offered a genuflect which went unacknowledged.

She offered a faint smile which was unacknowledged

and arched now she resolved that he was to have his
way as to how he would communicate what shown
plainly in his face; she stood stock still
now edging now into curiosity has to how Lord
would balance his anger need
and his strong tendency to forgive.

He spoke:
'I have word and rumor received that you have baby seed
given you by him who leads the Worship, and if true'
he hesitated, 'would fatal wound me to deepest depth and
try my soul in deadly fires where my love for you now
surely wrestles with my rousing hate and vengeful side
making haste to surface and smite what I love
and have loved, the two I had risen above all others
and would in tandem thrust both down to foul dust
for clear betrayal's gain is my loss.'

'Face me here and tell these are lies, untruths
and you have remained to me true, faithful, loyal
and such and would not bring to me this mountain of shame
before all the hosts and have me public seem
unable to consummate and maintain
True True Truest Love in my own household.'

He paused and looked deep into her.

'Silence here can be easily mistaken as no defense
saying with deafening din that guilt stills your tongue
and slices now yet another piece of my crimson bleeding heart.

'Lilith, tell me now, all is untrue and you
remain my heart, my soul, my true.
I cannot' he said resignedly 'bear the thought that this is no
longer-if so I am sunk and lost;
mighty in so many eyes but a shriveled thing without
that platform
which is your love.'

She began slowly, mindful that her words would reverberate
within and travel far outside the room, she could feel angel
eyes and angel hearts, hearing and listening, for all knew
this meeting's import and this could not be shut from its gathering drama
now square in her hands where choosing her words carefully
could for all mean
ill or respite, conflagration or reconciliation,
She spoke: