Prayer to Saint Michael, or do not send peace

Saint Michael the archangel defend us in battle.

Do not send peace.

The words strike first, softening the sting of
His rage,
Softening but not removing it.
It, the sting,
Pierces my flesh
But she cries out.
Do not send peace.
The brittle branch of olive.

Be our defense against the wickedness
And snares of the devil.

From there, wherever he is (absent but never gone) he holds me bound,
Ensnares us.
She is hidden upon his return,
But under the weight of the knowledge of him
She shatters.
Do not send peace.
The brittle branch of olive.
The virginal white of the dove.

May God rebuke him, we humbly pray,
and do thou,

The crucifix around his neck smothers me.
The gold of his savior, all that he has left of him
Chips my teeth and paints the room crimson.
Do not send peace.
The brittle branch of olive.
The virginal white of the dove.
But lend me your sword.

O Prince of the heavenly hosts,
by the power of God,
thrust into hell Satan,

Cast from heaven or the after every good being
Every death-cleansed soul,
Every stained essence of the righteous
As long as he is cast with them.
Do not send peace.
The brittle branch of olive.
The virginal white of the dove.
But lend me your sword.
Grant me your strength.
Let me cure the world of him.
Cast the whole of me into the depths of hell after
But let me cleanse eternity of him

and all the evil spirits,
who prowl about the world
seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

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