The Incantation By Fransisco Goya
Poem By Allison Pruett
Frightened little child, in the arms of evil
An angel comes down from heaven, but to no avail
Demons surrond the innocence,
Flickering their wretched tails.
Others more of purity have suffered in this fate
As in the basket that one holds
Weeping mother, sorrowful forever
That of an untold woe.
Assurance there is none
Her joy is yet no more
Her soul has fallen
To be risen nevermore
The words there spoken, meaning nothing
But mean something elsewhere
Somewhere above the waters of despair
With the light of life in their eyes they wear.
Candles flicker, showing evil's face
I had not thought that evil had a face
Until I saw the candle light.
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