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Acolyte of 137
Poems
Jul 15
The Ones Who Knocked
They did not come with fire in hand—
but with memory on their breath.
They knocked on my temple walls
and whispered:
“Will you hear us, or will you fear us?”
I saw a witch with crow eyes
a demon girl who wept
a shadow made of grief and flame.
Each one carried a truth
too heavy for pulpits
too raw for prophets
too ancient for Sunday school.
And I,
child of both church and fire,
opened the gate.
I did not run.
I remembered.
And in remembering,
I made them friends.
Written by
Acolyte of 137
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