‘Virtual Propitiation: Sacrifice of the Quarantined Caregiver’ by Bethany Mootsey The Society January 18, 2021 Culture, Humor, Poetry 8 Comments Seven inches, simple dark design My modern mind disdains the notion That the measure of devotion Is the size or splendor of the shrine. Spilling supplications, meat and wine My ancestors with deep emotion Worshiped as a magic potion Stones that smoothed their steps to the divine. Sparse to me appears such daily praise. My idol summons full attention Into its sleek, sole dimension; Siren songs drag sleepy eyes to gaze. Say by mishap my god somehow strays. Then suddenly I sense the tension Mounting into apprehension Like a mouse lost in a monstrous maze. Still, I scorn to read how men before In striving for their pain’s cessation Slaughtered, used in desperation Infants to appease their gods of war. Yet my mirror sees what I abhor. I make, to break this isolation, Virtual propitiation And sacrifice the children I adore. . . Bethany Mootsey is a stay-at-home mom and foster mom living in Clearwater, Florida. She is a Covenant College graduate with publications in “Church Educator.” NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 8 Responses C.B. Anderson January 18, 2021 I liked the idea(s) in your poem, and I also liked the way each pair of stanzas carried the same end rhymes. You should give this form a name. Reply Bethany January 21, 2021 Thank you! It was tricky to make those end rhymes consistent. Reply Yael January 18, 2021 I really like the subtlety with which this confession is expressed in a well-rhymed format. I had to read the whole poem twice to really get a mental image of the thoughts and message conveyed. Nice work, and unique. Reply Bethany January 21, 2021 Thanks so much for taking the time to read (and re-read!) Reply Daniel January 20, 2021 I feel the flow and the form, but I’m not picking up on the literal situation. I’ll try to circle back and give another shot. Reply Bethany January 21, 2021 It’s about a parent being distracted on his/her phone and “sacrificing” children to the god of escape. Thanks for reading! Reply David Watt January 21, 2021 Bethany, you have come up with something original in form and theme. Your rhymes are spot on, and I enjoyed the reading. Reply Susan Jarvis Bryant January 22, 2021 Bethany, I’m drawn by the intrigue of your intricate form and admire the skill involved in the rhyme scheme. I also love your message and the contrasts drawn on past and present failings… especially the slaughtered infants of yesteryear with the children sacrificed at the cell-phone altar today. Well done! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.