Offering

She sees me walk toward her, slowly, steadily

"Mother of Demons" they chant

My hands hold her arms, and I stand watching her shiver in the cold
"Our lives are filled with the filth of the Oppressors"
And looking up at me
A one-two count as they tap against the stones
Her eyes turn upwards as my body enters her
A one-two count as she is thrust upon the stone

I watch her clench her fists against the ropes
Tight and sure, they will hold against the thrashing
Dry and brittle against her perspiring body

"Mother of Sinners" they chant

"Your hand has turned against us, your faithful followers"
They recite, the blood seeping from self-inflicted wounds
In a discernable pattern, in keeping with the rite
I recite my words
As my body moves with the rythm of their chanting
"Here we bring to you one fresh and innocent."
"Come, now, while her innocence leaves her, so that you may feed and be appeased."
She screams, she cries, she begs, she struggles
I do not move or look into her face

For above us looms a ghostly appiration
Filthy from my exertion, I bow my head
And leave the goddess to her feeding
While my brothers and I walk away slowly

Smiling