Most of my childhood was spent in church
every Sunday like clockwork,
teaching me in the ways of selflessness.
I believed taking on other people's pain
was a noble and loving thing to do
and I have done that my whole life.
I have immense guilt, I always felt sinful
for needing to put myself first sometimes,
for the way I love not being enough
to heal anyone, or save them.
It is not my responsibility to save others
but that’s not what you’re taught
surrounded by adults telling you hell awaits
anyone selfish, doubtful, or different.
We must protect those we love from harm
but I watched my father cause harm
to my mother, to my sister, their tears
marking my failure to be a good person.
I saw how he used guilt to divide us,
I saw my mother’s pain became my sister’s,
I saw my foundations crumble before me
as I stood a powerless, small child
and knew my soul was marked by it forever.
That was the end of my faith in my father
when I knew there was nothing to look up to
in him or in my mothers absence too.
I needed something to believe in, the world
was too confusing, too scary, too aggressive
and unkind, so I turned to the only person I
had. The only role model still there.
She left religion, I always followed her.
but I just replaced one god with another
and tried so hard to be a good disciple
not knowing that the truth was
I never could earn the love promised.