LITERARY: “In Cahoots with Satan” by Erica G. Ildefonso

-

Your eyes will remain 

A conundrum to me. 

How they flicker gleams 

Into my gloomy days. 

Yet, they themselves, 

Are incantations of melancholy. 

 

Abetting the birth 

Of thousand butterflies, 

I will let you hold my hand still; 

In comfort. 

In profoundness 

Of heart, warm and beating. 

 

And your lips, 

Always carved into submission, 

Fibs I have tasted  

But never lies: 

For we are Wiccans, 

Plighting our troth. 

 

Your bosoms, nurtured by spirits; 

And your mound, crafted by the gods; 

Sprinkle verve into my desiccated lands, 

Whenever we collapse into one. 

Gone are the days, 

Wizened and old. 

 

But confound it! 

Confound the Malleus Maleficarum. 

Confound the man; 

Who hanged our sisters, 

Who burned our sisters, 

Who drowned our sisters! 

 

Their eyes are a reflection 

Of spite and ignorance. 

Their hands are instruments, 

For tying us to Corda, 

For their hearts brimmed nothing, 

But mere haughtiness to women. 

 

You ask me now, 

“How can thou feel me 

When our skins are pricked with bodkins? 

How can thou love me 

When our mouths are fastened with branks?” 

 

But, darling let me say, 

I love you even more; 

Despite the jolting pain, 

And their virulent diatribes— 

I love you even more; 

In our warmth never illusive. 

In our pact never faltering. 

 

—Let’s meet again in another life. 

-

Painting: Witches' Sabbath (1798) by Francisco Goya

Published by: Julianne Andrei F. Batiao

Date published: February 13, 2022

Time published: 6:12 pm