Sometimes I would think of you when I sat stock still in the pews wondering if I ever meant the 'peace be with you' I uttered when shaking strangers hands.
Atheist would be the only word running parallel to your name in my brain.
I would pray that I would uncommitt myself from the congregation of degradation of leaving my salvation to a simple man.
I'd grasp my rosary and say a novena-crushing 9 days into 9 heartbeats.
Praying to St. Jude to heal my hopelessness.
Praying to St. Michael to defend me in battle.
Praying for the lost souls in purgatory including my own.
It was your tears I took as my communion, your infrequent emotion as my salvation.
Your name I sang in exultation.
It was easier to see the holy mother in a piece of toast then compassion in your eyes.
Too long I found the holy grail to be superficial touches and penetrating words.
Or vice versa.
Depending on the day.
I paid my penance genuflected at your belt.
I would pray that just once
transubstantiation would leave the wine and wafers alone and regenerate the cells in your heart so you could have a beating one.
Crucifying me for your obscenities one word at a time. Nailing my soul with each wretched word.
Unnerved by you using my tears as water for your stained glass shrines, I performed my own exorcism.
Locking myself in a booth of overwhelming emotions lit with my insecurities. Forcibly taking my conscious to reconciliation.
I chipped away at the indoctrination that I willingly chose.
Refusing myself to blindly go along I burned my eyes with holy water. Scorching out my vision of who you were to see who you truly are.
Squinting with cold clarity, I could see your mortality.
Hands twisting nervously because they haven't had a chance to exert their violent prowess on someones conditioned heart.
Eyes darting back and forth waiting for the karma of one of your cruel decisions to catch up to you.
Watching sweat form on your brow because you realize that your strength was never a power.
It was a poison that polluted every thought you ever had. It taught you that cowardice was strength and love was weakness and weakness is best cured by a beating. Or two. Or three. Whatever made you feel like a god.
Realizing I have never been your congregation.
I baptised myself in your sweat. Drinking every droplet to soothe my once scarred soul.
Quenching my thirst with the tears dripping down your quivering jaw, I had a revelation.
No more deities, scriptures, brimstone promises, crosses, or altars are allowed in my life.
I have no time for idolatry.
I shall have no other gods besides me.