Faith Death / God’s Rage

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! ♥️