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to give so much of the soul to Him
to fragment the mind and spirit
in ways i did not and could not see
left a gaping hole in me
that ached and bled
with every clasp of my hands in prayer
there was a newfound tightness in my chest
a ferocity, something hot and strong
that burned in the obedient silence of the church
everything was for Him, i told myself
my strangled senses of self, silenced
falling to my feet in twisted ribbons
and i had been so willing to leave them there
for so long
to bleed myself out for Him
but now—
i found myself wanting to scoop up
those pieces of myself
and hold them close to me
until we once again became one
i sent my heart up to Him for all my life
and received nothing in return
and i was never angry, not once
it was not by any fault of any Lord, i always thought
but because my faith wasn’t strong enough
and hadn’t been for a long time
it was a flickering flame
a lick of red-orange firelight
that dimmed and dulled by the day
until i found myself wondering
if it had ever been alight in the first place
or if i had just believed it had
or been told as much
ungodly emotions came over me often now
an anger, a feeling of betrayal
that i could not shake
had i felt the presence of Christ even once?
if not, what had it been?
what was that feeling
i would so rarely get during Mass
and where had it gone?
was it my fault i didn’t feel Him anymore?
had it been the power of Christ i’d felt?
or had it been the community
of belonging, of humankind at its most united
that had made me feel so at home?
had i ever believed in anything at all?
how could i be so unsure of where i stood?
i told him Jesus, forgive me if you can
but even if i wanted to
how am i supposed to leave this?
where will i go, and to whom will i turn?
He was who held me back
for i still loved Him and all he stood for
with a fierceness i could never shake
but i was faced with the brute reality
that everything i’d done
and all that i’d had to be
had not been for Him
but for them
for everyone else
in those sweet smelling pews each Sunday
who so often curled their lips at God’s children
and shunned them for being the least bit different
or creative
or bold
or individual
or curious
it had been for their appeasement and comfort
that i had tried so hard to feel Him
to pretend to be one in the same with them
giving in to the lie of imprisoned conservatism
that was always skewed to represent Christ
the last time i stepped foot into my church
i started up at Him on the cross
and realized it had been the idea of Him
that i had loved and believed in so strongly
and as i came to terms with this
those people who would hate me so
chimed mindlessly together in prayer
filling my ears with the sound of intent faith
that i could not pretend to have any longer
a coldness overtook me then
a revulsion towards them, towards all of it
alongside a sharp feeling of angry helplessness
and dark, desolate confusion
as an ugliness inside me snarled in my ear
that this church would be holiest
burnt to embers at my feet
-
This is the second installment of my religious-affiliated poetry centered around leaving the Church. This piece was a little hard to write, as the recollection of the doubt, frustration, and anger that I felt at the time I stopped believing were very overwhelming. In hindsight, I am very grateful I experienced those feelings as they led me to where I am today.
The poem is focused on the betrayal and anger of realizing the things you had always thought you knew may not be the truth, or they cannot be your truth for any longer.
If interested, you can check out my first piece about how religion and shame can coincide here:
Thank you for reading! ♥️
About the Creator
angela hepworth
Hello! I’m Angela and I love writing fiction—sometimes poetry if I’m feeling frisky. I delve into the dark, the sad, the silly, the sexy, and the stupid. Come check me out!
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Comments (11)
Religion is such a complicated topic, it's been manipulated by so many different types of people which creates a division on what's actually true and what's not. Beautifully done here, this was incredible! 💌
Really like this kinda mystical writings You did a great job Keep up the great work
Well-wrought! Many mistake the demiurge for the Divine, and the secret to learning discernment in this matter lies in the direction not of group ideologies--for it is that very oxytocin/dopamine hit that the demiurge uses to confuse the mind, and it does not necessarily have to be through religion--well, the secret will be experienced in silent, abiding openness to the world, in solitude. One can then, of course, take this grace anywhere they want! To a group of friends, to a cave on a mountain, to a rock concert or a battlefied or a prison... if need be, but let's hope for the best of those scenarios and try our best to avoid the worst, eh?
Your words convey a willingness to surrender one's sense of self and sacrifice everything for this higher purpose, there is a raw vulnerability and selflessness in your expression, may you find peace and fulfillment in your journey of faith, thank you very much for sharing, love your works, hope to read more, subscribed.
This was soooo freaking relatable and very intense! Sending you lots of love and hugs ❤️
I am probably now an agnostic but with Christian and Buddhist tendencies. I don't go to church. I'm like Andrea in my opinion. I have a direct link to whatever spiritual body I connect to when I pray or show gratitude. I said before, on your last poem, God is Love and so, for me, anyone showing intolerance for a way of life which does no harm to anyone and who preaches against it in the name of God, doesn't do it in the name of God. How can you then share a building with people who see you as something against God? It makes a mockery of what you believe. Having those truths fracture is really hard because they've been the bedrock of your existence. It's good to make sense of things that have had a deep impact on your life, good to give them shape. It is cathartic. This was a deep delve today, Angela. Thanks for sharing.
It wasn't God - it was the religion and those teaching it, thinking their way is the only way to God. I always ask Catholics, why do you need a priest? Can't you ask God directly for forgiveness? Sad this happens and ruins the connection to Spirit.
I think being gay and going to a catholic school made me question a lot of things. This poem was fabulous… so raw and emotional. Great stuff.
As you mentioned, the themes conjured in the previous work are alive here as well, though the persona in this case takes an intriguingly interrogative, even dialectical approach to questioning faith and identity and the feeling of belonging that might well be generated by the other humans rather than an elusive deity. This is more, excellent verse!
A nice turning of words into a poem!!!
Angela, was very much thinking of this...we are often judged when others don't understand.But He gives strength.