My grandmother told me I should cleanse my soul. I tell her that I believe in god but he and I just never connected. I once believed that god hated me, he dragged away all of the ones that I loved away from me. My grandmamma told me that I should try and listen to the words of these glitter stone covered pastors with jewelry that cost more than my home. I have to admit I hated you but eventually, God you and I became cool. Somewhere down the line I just accepted the fact that possibly you existed. Maybe just maybe I’ve forgiven you; I know that I can’t blame you for all of the unfortunate things that I have experienced.
I used to scream silently within the dark abyssal corners of my room. I screamed because everything I loved was always taken away from me, what’s next? I want to grab your holy hand and tell you the things that you’ve cursed me with. You’ve taken away the things I’ve cherished and needed most. Yet people praise you and put upon the highest pedal stool where no one can reach. You are placed so highly above everyone else that we all fear you. Should we all fear all of the ones that are deemed superior?
I feel the need to chase after redemption, to redeem myself from the acts of selfishness and dishonesty. We are taught to believe that god has the blueprints to our life in his hands. That somehow a man that no one has ever met or spoken with personally has the book of our lives within the palm of his unforgiving hands. I want to draw my own blueprints and write my own stories. Why should I wait and see what’s next for me instead of doing it and making something happen for myself.