Crucifix of Sanity

She clung to the crucifix with white knuckles
On her knees, she prays to her lord
The one who will “save us all”

Look up, I say, look around you
There is no “God” to pray to
There is a blue sky, there are clouds
Beyond that is a black space with burning balls of gas
Where is this God you speak of?

She shakes her head at me
The crucifix drips with the blood
Of her perforated skin
She won’t release it and in her frustration
She loses her balance and falls, crying
To the altar
You know nothing, she says to me
Spittle rains down on her dress
You, lush little whore, know nothing
God will return to judge you in time
Do not cry when your soul goes below to play with the other whores

What god, I dare ask, would sentence me
To an eternity of hell for the few years I opted to remain amongst the living?
What god, who is so loving and kind to you,
Would turn and be so cruel and heartless to one such as myself?
I do not need a crucifix and a prayer
To live my life and be happy
You, woman, you cling to God not for comfort and protection
But for an authoritative figure in your life
For your last shred of sanity, there is God
A fact that no matter how hard I try,
I cannot dispute.

I leave the woman, broken and bleeding
On that altar with her stained crucifix
And as I push open the giant doors
I am bathed in the sunlight of tomorrow
Where I need nothing to appreciate what I have

My life

 

 

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