Letter to a Nun

Sister,

I realize that you spoke for the devil last night. I could not sleep for some reason, so I thought about the things you had said to me in the end. Maybe I could not sleep because I thought of those awful things. You say that people change, that their faces slide right before your eyes and the room begins to change and transport you into those nightmares where they touch you. I have gone from your life, but my face never turned from you.

I looked into your life, and you cursed me, spitting as you poisoned me with those vicious words. You may have once praised the darkness of this life with those lips...those chapped, trembling, and frowning lips. Those same lips that begged me to compromise my goodness for pleasure, spoke death into the life of an unborn child...your child. You spoke for the devil. Now you say you hate Jesus. You have no problem saying that you 'fucking hate Jesus' and that I made you hate him. The devil would say anything to survive. You only want to flourish. You don't want to rebuild or recognize your life as a rotten mess. I could not sleep, thinking how obviously involved the devil had been.

He grabbed my legs one night in a dream. I was sleeping next to you. I dreamed that a dark shadow rose from the side of your bed and took hold of my legs. I was being pulled off, into the darkness. I reached out for you and told you I loved you. You told me I was melting like a snowball in the fire. Why did you say that? Was it the devil in your voice or his voice in my head?

Sincerely,

Redding