I never thought myself as scared,
Maybe as a fish never thinks itself under water,
But here I am breathing bubbles towards the surface.
I feared hell:
Not the fire and brimstone
Or the torture and torment,
But the judgement of being wrong
In such an eternal and irrevokable way.
Who could stand the monotony of being alive
Knowing they were in for countless lives of separation
From everything that ever was holy and lovable?
The sky was blue,
The air was fresh,
god created it all,
We were subjects.
Obeidence to reality was my strength,
But my reality was in denial.
In truth, my senses were painted over.
Priests and prophecies
Guilded my eyes
And assessed the value of my soul—
Each conversion rebuffed their own.
Soon I came to see the faults of others
So in need of my grace—
A noble warrior for god
Granting eternities of peace
Thus insuring my own.
I am still learning what it means to be brave,
Maybe as a herb that can grow amongst the ivy,
So here I am standing tall from my roots.