My mother worried about me
And the devil
After I left the Catholic seminary.
She worried when I learned to meditate.
"Don't do that," she'd warn.
"You're opening yourself up to the devil."
I told her that humans created the devil.
"Don't talk like that," she'd scold.
"The devil is tricking you."
I told her the devil doesn't exist.
She'd fold her hands in prayer,
As protection
Against even the mention
Of the word, devil.
"The devil is evil.
He makes us do bad things," she'd say.
Humans created the devil
To have someone else
To blame,
To cast upon it
Their shame
For not living kindly.
"Sometimes your wisdom scares me," she'd say.
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