Slowly, then all at Once
denial
patterns
looking back,
denial was perhaps the most long-lasting
only nine years old when the facts didn’t line up
but the church leaders spoke for God
just fourteen and something feels off
but first you doubt your doubts
at nineteen I knew I didn’t believe that
but put your faith over fear
by twenty-three I knew too much
Lord, help thou mine unbelief
help me when I can’t believe
Lord, I can’t play make-believe
I need permission to not believe
anger
worship
twisted histories
secrets, lies, deception
mingled with truth
our trust was our downfall
our faith our blindfold
now unmasked, we see a god
not worthy of His own covenant
the prophets have fallen,
a willful betrayal
now refusing to prophesy
preaching only blind devotion to anything but Him
who does not care for their sacrifices
bargaining
sacrifice
forbidden to make a deal with god,
I can only confront my own mind
if I returned to the ones who betrayed me
would the nightmares go away
the uneasy feeling in my gut
tells me I was not meant to endure to the end
but how could I remain complicit
when the chosen few are anointed again to eternal glory
where all are worthless unless worthy
when purity is more valuable than life
where the thumb is still extended, the hand in cupping shape
when forgiveness is always just another sacrifice away
depression
confession
you’ll never believe me
but I’ve never known myself better than I do now
despite longing for this authenticity
I wish for what was not real to be true
I yearn for the time when I didn’t know
that the opposite of faith is knowledge
ignorance, I found, is living my life in the wrong place
and I only wish I was not right
if only my guilt would purify me
if only someone could mourn with me as I mourn
if only a bottled-up confession held enough oxygen
to survive this life
acceptance
resurrection
my god is dead to me
he resurrects in my dreams
as a mother
as a wildflower
as a breeze
each new life something a little more perfect,
a little more worthy of my worship
they beg for my forgiveness
as I offer them up as a sacrifice
cleansing myself of my youth
in search of something finally good
I mourn their death
but in their ashes I find myself
and we are good, and we are real