Move on.

I think sometimes

of ending this romance I have had with religion.

I want to sign my name at the bottom of the

list of things I've learned,

fold it up and put it in a box somewhere;

resting on top of old macaroni art projects

and forgotten, angry songs.

I want to walk away from this part of who I've been

hang it up like a winter coat in spring,

let it gather dust while I just

shed layers, let myself wander;

hold the palms of my hands, upturned, out spread,

to the warmth of the sun, and get

horribly sunburned again.

Because you get so tired of the personal, you know?

You get so tired of people being so sincere.

You get tired of the stories, the anecdotes, the internal evidence.

You get so tried of "women! guard your hearts!"

and "men! remember how He lay down his life for her!"

and "if it's meant to be, God will make it happen."

and all the bad advice and transparent platitudes

and shocked divorcees and secret teenage abortions.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of the pressure to write "He" with a capital "H"

and I'm tired of the same subjects being discussed

with the same people in different contexts.

I'm tired of internal struggle to drag myself through this interior castle,

and I am tired of how overwhelmingly lonely friendships become

when they are forged on dogma.

I am tired of using words like "overwhelmingly" and "lonely",

and I am exhausted by attempts to chart my own spiritual progress,

and economical progress, and personal progress

and measuring out in my mind

how much attention I pay to myself

vs.

how much attention I pay to the poor.

I think sometimes

that I want to be something else

then what I already am.

Live life with people who believe that

it's better not to marry and that

life can be fulfilling, without striving for perfection or

waiting for another to fulfill us.

Oh, heavy woollen coat,

how I yearn to put you away,

but for you to still keep me safe.