Saturday, March 16, 2013

Two


"Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to
sanity."


I was born in that place between the floor and the door,
where the tile is cool and the toilet overflows.
Conceived, crumpled up like my childhood drawings
because "We've just not got the space for that"
yet your cherry wood chest brims full with Starbucks receipts
because 3 years later, we may return it, urine or vomit.

"You have to believe in something, my dear"
says my wise woman, who teaches me how to be a person
because my mother and family did not.
But hadn't I always believed in an awful lot?

I had knelt gracefully at the cold hard erect alter
that quivered in one thousand forms of fear
lit smokeless candles of misery for my sisters and me,
and we were baptized in a sea of money changing mens' hands
emerging from tombs, stumbling up steps, just to be here.

In a just-right-cramped, one bedroom apart
measuring my raised battle scars, only to realize
I was the only one I ever fought and I had believed in a lot, 
but a God who could love me, I had not.

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