Empty Hands, Shallow Mouths

Why I Don’t Believe In God

I trusted you with

my soul, singing

praise, hands open,

eyes wide, wanting, needing

the acceptance of the nonexistent.

I sacrificed judgment,

hatred, loss, and love

for you

and

I loved you

I loved you.

Until my heart broke,

until I felt the warmth of faith

melt over my skin

and I glowed with the words

my God.

My God,

I was tortured for you.

Twice.

1.

By the people I called

friends, by the place

I called home,

by the body I mistook

as mine.

2.

You let him.

You let him,

and I lied there and

thought:

There is no god.

There is no god.

His sweat dripped onto

my face, rolled down my

cheek, collected in the bones

of my shoulders, and I

thought myself a skeleton.

The sweat joined my tears --

sweat and pain --  

hate and fear --

there is no difference.

There is no god in a boy’s body in mine.

I lost you;

god cannot exist if

I don’t either.

I felt like I was being blamed

blamed for something I thought

was pure until his hands were stone

on top of mine and my legs

spread and I became an

upside down cross.

While I bled and he sweat,

no sound came from above.

No voice spoke in my head

and I finally understood what

it meant to be alone and defeated,

abandoned,

unwanted.

I understood.

I took my empty head and I filled it with

hate so I would never have to hear

my cries echoing off the walls.

I filled myself with:

Ideas

People

Books

A savior.

But not me --

not me.

I couldn’t

save myself.

I closed my eyes when I felt alone.

I screamed instead of prayed.

I drank and scratched and loved

and hated and lived a hollow life

made by hypocrites.

I let weakness and

dirt into me.

I let god leave and the devil enter.

Temptation is not what it

sounds like --

it’s forced down your throat.

You can either breathe through salty water

or drown.

Temptation is not the word I feel --

it’s oppression.

I lost god because I dropped the hand

holding me up.

There is no belief in god.

There is no belief in myself.

There is no foundation --

the bones cracked,

the skin peeled,

my heart a starving seed.

I cannot drink from God’s hands,

because the mouth has forgotten how.

The body is dry.

My hand reaches for darkness,

hoping that His will outstretch and,

even though it has waited

for years,

I hope it will hold onto mine once more.

Why I Believe In God

I am still alive.

Reviews

[Nessie_AJ]

Wow..as a Christian this is heartbreaking to read and at the same time so relatable. It is always hard to believe in someone or something when we can't see or hear what we so desperately want to. I think this piece of work expresses so beautifully and raw what we all want, to be saved. Sometimes we are tired of doing it ourselves and we want someone to take care of it, and when it doesn't happen we blame the world. Such a hard pain you have expressed in words that you can't help but cry reading this. If this work is true...I am praying for you! Just know how touching this literary piece is and that you have created something really special!

[Kelley Quinn]

Thank you thank you thank you for your kind words. I really appreciate them. Thank you for reading this and believing and praying. This was really hard for me to write, but I am glad I did. Thank you.

[W.k.kortas]

It's a bit sprawling in spots, and there are a few of the short or single-word lines which (at least for me) do not work particularly well, and the final two lines I found a bit pat, a bit too clever, but there's no denying it's a powerful piece of writing; the emotion is palpable, but not screaming and shreiking, and it reads very smoothly, with almost the natural rhythm of speech, which is a difficult thing to do with a subject so emotionally charged.

[Emunah June.]

Woah. That's hard.

See, God is so complex to so many people. My own PERSONAL OPINION is that every human on this earth is born knowing there is a God, but whether or not they accept Him depends on the kind of experiences they go through. Sounds to me the speaker of the poem experienced some sort of sexual abuse, most likely rape or similar, and as a result he or she (although I'm assuming "she" since there is a mention of spread legs in one of the stanzas) has a strained relationship with God. But the last line really threw me for a loop, you see, and in one of the best possible ways. SO MANY PEOPLE find reasons to blame God, never really stopping to examine their blessings thoroughly. The fact that the speaker still believes in God even after what he or she went through is reassuring. Comforting.

I see this to like the daydream of an agnostic, or perhaps a born again Christian. Either way, its a beautiful journey with a clear struggle, seeming defeat, and outcome. Well done! Well done!

[Kelley Quinn]

I have never read a more beautiful review. Thank you so much for understanding and finding beauty in this. Thank you for reading