Deliver Me! Poem by moon batchelder

they said, redemption would require a phrase.
a sentence spoke, ideal embraced by name
that otherwise not god received her praise
but evil one by whom destruction came

was called. no matter that her heart was pure,
that state where 'everything is fresh and new'
could never be attained, nor she be sure
of heaven lest her self subscribe unto

the version of creation in their book;
believe that gods of other faiths defile
the soul. and sin most grievous just to look
into their ways, tho she were free of guile.

allah akbar, nama shivaya, aum,
yahweh, iesu christe, take me home!