Lost Innocence

She wants to know why
we don’t pray before meals
and why I don’t believe in god
because she does, she says.

I’m not sure where
she picked that up and
I’m a little disappointed but
she’s in kindergarten and I’m
trying to be a good Unitarian
Universalist, so I tell her it’s okay
if people believe different things
as long as we love each other.

But then she wants to know if
the church I was raised in
is a good place and I have to try to
explain that there are good people
there who have misguided ideas
like it’s wrong to be gay
or that there’s a Hell
or, worse still, that folks like me
are going there when we die.

And, as she looks out the car window
and considers the fact that people
she knows are convinced her daddy
is due for some spiritual agony,
I wonder about the same thing
and worry that some day she, too,
might feel that way,
that the Blood of the Lamb
will wash away her kindness
in addition to her sins, and
that my beautiful and sweet child
will think so poorly of herself
that she will beg for mercy
from someone supposedly full of love.


About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in family, poetry, religion and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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