When a character touches a fan

Suzana Wylie is a stunningly imaginative poet, a wordsmith of the first rank. Her work can be found HERE and on the 
EW&R Facebook page.

A photo prompt inspired her to write a narrative poem built around a character, Jefrumael, from The Strigoi Chronicles. Though Jef is the Demon Lord's right-hand-man and go-to assassin, few know his origins and the secrets he keeps. The one who does is the hapless monk Dreu with his mixed blood heritage and penchant for getting it wrong. 

Su wrote this amazing piece, an origin story for Jefrumael.

I am honored beyond words... 

For Jefrumael

And as he fell, he knew the truth
The truth of kingdom come
That in that place, if ‘all for one’
Lacked ‘one for all’ refrain
Then heaven couldn’t, wouldn’t be
His home. Or theirs, the ones
They’d watched live out their lives
Their swift and painful lives.
He’d not believed the fears were true
The fears he should not have
That whispered ‘something’s just not right’
When standing at the Throne.
He’d shushed them, brushed them from his mind
The One could not be wrong
But there could be no doubt not now
As shattered, wingless still he fell
Flung from his sheltering home
Towards earth and them, the piteous ones
The One had fashioned there
Cast out, cast out, he was cast out
And yet he’d ask again
He’d stand before the One and shout
“It’s not fair or right, old man!
You say you love them, they’re your own,
And yet you give them that?
A few brief years, with pain and strife
And war and flood and storm
And when it’s over, their little lives,
Eternity awaits
In heaven here to sing your praise
Or hell to curse your name?
Where is the love, old man, in that,
Where is that father’s love
That you and they sing fondly of?
And yet I see it not.
You lied to them, old man, you lied!
You love them not at all.
It’s you, you love, and only you
And so must all of us
And even all those little ones
Must bow to you, you say,
Or suffer through the fires of hell.
How is that love?” he asked.
And then answer he’d been told
The words that sealed his fate
“They’re mine, I’ll treat them as I please,”
From heart as cold as death.
He’d leapt, his choice, he would not stay
And then the thundering doom
The curse that mocked his deed
“Be gone from here,” it said,
“They’ll see you’ve fallen from my grace,
Now hell’s your twice-damned home.”
He plummeted from heaven’s throne
And shattered boundary line.
Glad tidings once again rang out:
He’d opened heaven’s gate.
He’d take the the roaring fires of hell
And tenderly he’d care
For all the hapless hell-bound souls
The truth would bring his way
For even soul-blind see the light
When darkness shelters all.
Freedom sweet and freedom pure
Soaks parched and withering souls.
His dive from stagnant throne did break
Glass ceiling from above.