The Devil and I
When he sinned, he was the first to fall,
And in that moment he embodied all
The madness and malice in the hearts of men
And made an example again and again.
But why did he sin? Some'd call it greed
Or an ever persistent and desperate need
For control, power, lust, and praise
Stolen from a God unpleasant, unfazed.
I think it not; I think his demise
Stemmed from waking; he recognized
That his praise wasn’t for glorious things—
But to please the ego of a biased king.
Did he, like me, stumble in the choir,
As the sopranos sang higher, higher!
And in his mistake, did he hear the lie
And realized for him, the Son wouldn’t die?
Did Lucifer, too, see lists of those
Sinners, for which the Son then arose?
Killers and cheats, the rich and the cruel
All earned a place beneath heavenly rule.
But not him; not the Eve’s who dare love
Lilith’s like Adam’s; never the doves
That fall for crows; pregnant Mary’s as well–
We have no place. Our home is hell.
I think he was scared, feared the truth;
Divine love is biased, porous, uncouth.
And in this thought, he wasn’t alone
yet He scorned them all—right from His throne.
Because in the end, he sinned all th’same
And Father’s forgiveness never came.
God‘s love has limits; you may protest,
But it stops when you speak the doubt in your chest.
Did Satan then sob, smite down by Him?
Did he feel lost, alone, and grim?
Did he lose his religion, like I lost mine?
Did he disturb a father he'd mistaken for kind?
And when he fell, his wax wings melting,
Did the devil cry with his skin welting
From the scorching heat of the sun in the sky
As God scorned him with His burning eye?
Who knows what came first: Free will or sin?
‘Cause to me, at least, they’re one of kin.
The choice to fall was never really his;
We all lust for free will like an Icarus.
I don’t want to sing ‘til the stars wink out.
I don’t want to be burned forever for doubt.
I don’t want a god that has His son die
For mistakes He made when making you and I.
But if I am tired of singing praise
To a god that scorches me with His gaze—
If I choose the path He doesn't therein lie
Does that make us the same, the devil and I?
Soniyah Wiggins (any and all pronouns) is a genderfluid African American that grew up in the southern United States. They were actively a part of the nonprofit literary magazine called The ECHO through high school, and it truly sparked their love for literature. They hope to one day publish a book, but right now they’re taking it one short story, poem, and essay at a time.
Instagram: @soniyahwigg