March 10, 2022
The Beast
As me and my own blood were bornTo wait the Beast’s return,We happy few with no oath swornDo ponder when to learnDo we forgive the sinners’ past –Relieve them of their pain?All those who lived in glory vast?All those who died in vain?Those husks of flesh with eyes alike,Perspectives ever bent,Like us did face His coming pikeTo be ripped of consentOur thoughts at pause by darkened skyBy brewing storm of hasteAlas, I’ll stand before Him highAnd for my son encased
—Jake Puestow, Poetry Editor