Hallelujah (It Is Mine To Keep)​

~

Inspired by Judy Blume,  inside Jokes with Liz and the poetry of Alissa Grams (https://alissagrams.wordpress.com/2017/03/06/an-open-letter-to-god-from-an-eighteen-year-old-girl/)

~

God,

it's me--

jade.

I must admit,

I've never read

Judy Blume

or the Bible,

for that matter

(I could never make it

past Genesis).

I am not well-versed

when it comes to scripture--

I am fluent in tragedy

and tragedy alone;

then again,

is there really any difference

between scripture and tragedy?

I was never one

to pay attention in church,

unless the hymns

were of a minor key,

the sermons imbued

with woe and melancholia.

Coincidentally,

as I write this,

it has only just occurred to me

that Lot's Wife

was never given a name

of her own--

it was destroyed with Sodom,

forgotten amongst the

flames and the ash.

God,

you were wrong

to punish her

the way you did.

Have you never felt the

sting of salt

against an open wound?

Have you never watched

as all the familiar intimacies

you once knew

dissolved to cinder?

(I know you have).

Do you not see that,

if home is where the heart is,

then the heart

must surely perish with it?

God,

has anyone ever broken your heart?

(I think you know heartbreak

as well as I do;

it is the very matter

of our existence).

So I guess my real question is

why?

(and, no, this time, it's not rhetorical).

Truly,

I'd like to know why

you would ever think

to hurt your people

the same way

the archangel hurt you.

You say I sin

against you,

but did you not

create me in your image?

(Like father,

like daughter,

I suppose).

god,

I do not think

I believe in you.

At least,

I do not believe in you

like I believe in other things.

I do not

believe in you

the way I believe in

the beauty of

Van Gogh's sunflowers

(his starry nights, too);

or in dog-earing the pages

of my favourite books.

I do not believe in you

the way I believe in magic;

or the integrity of

polaroids photographs

and listening to vinyl.

I do not believe in you

the way I believed in my love

during the final moments

before his betrayal;

or in the lingering sensation

of my past lives--

Ophelia.

Mary Queen of Scots.

Frida Kahlo.

Sylvia Plath--

and now,

dare I feel it,

dare I say it--

Lot's Wife.

(With her,

I shall share a name).

I do not believe

you are my saviour

because I do not

believe in you

the way I believe

in Poetry.

god,

it's me--

Jade;

this poem is

my hallelujah,

but it does not

belong to you

(not anymore).

---

Image Source:

Girl with sunflowers for head gif (n.d.). [image] Available at: https://ohreverie.tumblr.com/post/170107801126 [Accessed 10 Jan. 2019].

---

#betrayal #blogger #blogging #broken #corruption #darkness #death #destruction #emotion #faith #FridaKahlo #God #hallelujah #heartbreak #JudyBlume #lost #madness #MaryQueenofScots #Ophelia #poetry #reincarnation #religion #ruin #soul #SylivaPlath #tragedy #truth #VanGogh #writing