Essay:And Now She Rots

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Composed upon a view of an abandoned Lutheran church in the woods of northern Minnesota.

The old church sags within the grove,
whose branches bend to touch her sides.
Atop the rose carved o'er the door
an untamed cobweb now abides.
The rising rust leaves ruddy streaks
and peels the paint about her cross.
Her gutter's clogged with autumn leaves,
and in her crypt grows mold and moss.
O Germans, faring through the wood,
be sure ye mark that clearing well.
For there once sang the ancient cult
that pulled your fathers back from hell.
But then ye left her there to die,
were "born again" and tied new knots.
Ye chose salvation over hell,
but that's no choice. And now she rots.