Vengeful Providence

Vera
In somber chambers, cold and deep,
Where spectres wane and widows weep,
He found me - pale, with silent breath,
A child enwreathed in dreams of death.

He spake of foes with serpent guile,
And cloaked his sin in saintly smile;
He named me Faith - a cruel jest,
While chains of thought around me pressed.

He slew my blood, my mother’s grace,
And cast their shade upon this place;
Yet bade me rise, his chosen heir,
To wield the storms of my despair.

Now through my mind the thunders roll,
Unholy fire consumes my soul;
The hand that shaped me, I despise-
For Faith, he said, was born of lies.