all i do these days is doubt god.
my every prayer,
a plea for answers;
a search for the hint of goodness his son believed in
so much -
he made a premature death of himself.
but all i am met with is a ghostly silence,
one that is near unholy.
after hours on my hands and knees.
and
maybe i'm doing this all wrong.
maybe in order to get what i'm asking for
i must first show god i am willing to sacrifice
something important to me.
so i make sacrificial lambs:
of my time,
then my mental health;
bleed them dry and smear the stain on my door
as if this is passover;
go to church for a few sundays.
but all the priest does is stand on a pedestal
and condemn non-believers.
whilst i lay witness to the mass, but am quiet throughout.
so i consider going to confession
for the third time and final time in my life
imagine the scenario playing out something like this -
i, in a booth, across from an anonymous priest
confess to him ;
my wavering faith,
my lust for boys,
my love of girls,
girls composed of brown sugar with sweet lips and sweeter smiles.
confess the dreams i have ;
of kissing them all over
with clothes,
then without;
their body a cathedral,
this my worship.
each wet kiss a baptism,
each love bite communion.
and in the moment after the ecstasy of love making
when i cry into the blurred outlines of her arms
she whispers she loves me
and this is my resurrection,
her forgiveness of my sins.
and yet i am not crying because
i feel sinful. or dirty. or rot.
i am crying because of -
how the priest is looks at me, now
even though he is but a black blur,
the sort worn to funerals,
as he mourns
my lost soul;
how my parents - also black (blurs) -
would look at me if they were to witness,
this admission;
how my grandmother -
who is more god-fearing than woman
would be sickened by me;
and so, for a while, i fall out of love with god
call myself an atheist
but that feels too declarative,
a commitment i am unwilling to make
even if it is just a lack of belief
and it's not even that i lack belief
but that i lack answers,
lack some sort of hint that god
(the one i tried console kids on the school playground with)
is all that good
and all that forgiving
and all that i was promised,
growing up
- but until then i will live my life as best i can. try to be good and happy. and hope that is enough until judgement day.