words from a godless child
Sometimes I feel like a godless child.
Tied up in knots over thoughts
that trip over the other’s meaning.
I have been aching,
aching for You to come and catch me.
There are holes in my once “immaculate” armor.
Now a sieve to a traitor’s touch.
I have wandered to distant lands,
spoken in a different tongue,
shaping and tasting what I thought could be mine.
When battles come and go,
I have only myself to blame.
I have been waiting for a sign.
Any goddamn sign.
That could bring life between these thighs again.
There is no honey left in this sweet rock of mine(1).
Crack me open just to watch me cry out,
“I am where I’ve been.”
Suffice to say,
I’ve never been anywhere as good and as true as where You are.
Does that mean I am no good?
and yet that is where I first saw You.
Nested like new life in that of a heart shaped rock
in the middle of this concrete jungle.
You were as beautiful as a dream, and yet real.
You told me then what I thought was fantasy:
“No one is godless unless they choose to be.”
And even then,
You are always with us.