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.
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