Whimsically showing no mercy…a twilight delusion about the father.
What was it?
That he had wanted to convey.
Had he found someone new?
Perchance, the open door policy would not renew?
Years blinded by the light of ‘please forgive me.’
Chastised by the encampments of kingdoms to come.
Deceptively I had been a place-mat for all the evils done.
Celebrations of the good word.
Anchored to splintered wood.
Blindly, blatantly, above all else, god is good?
This becomes the flesh and the blood.
And, that benediction would be abusively…understood.
As the imagery of crosses burned into innocent skin…took a dreamy hold.
I stood fast.
I refused to kneel to man-made molds.
Releasing, once again, all the fiction I had been told.