I Was a Fool

I looked at Clyde while God’s apostle declared,
“You can have what you want, or the better God has prepared.”
I knotted my brows, and bowed my head,
then leaped, as I prayed, I want the better instead.

I prayed. What’s a prayer? What did I say?
Those old apostles had taught me the way—
the one and proper method to speak
to our Father in Heaven, whenever we seek.
First address God, our omnipotent Heavenly Father
with respect, on the knees, or don’t even bother.
Say “thee,” and “thin,” those old, holy words
are needed in order for prayers to be heard.
Now thank him for life, for blessings, despair,
for this option to have your life now, or his fair
promised blessings of something far, far greater
than what you imagined, from the celestial creator.
It’s all up to you, you’re free to do as you choose,
keep in mind, there’s one right answer, so don’t get confused:
if you choose God’s way, then you’ll have blessings divine,
if not, then it’s hell—sulphur and serpentine.
Next comes repentance; Heaven knows that you need
God’s forgiveness, so Jesus did bleed
and die for you. Be solemn. Be frank.
Now is a good time for you to thank
him again, and if you can qualify through
works and through tithes, and more than a few
pitiful words, and some solemn, sad cries,
and if what you ask for is prudent and wise,
and if God isn’t bored, if you don’t annoy him or prattle
on for too long, He might fight your battle.
He may listen to your pleading for daily bread,
he may give you a loaf, or a stone instead.
So ask him, knock, seek, and beg,
tell him your dreams. Cry at his leg.
Be sure your requests are not His temptations,
and he may bless you without abdication.
Of course, none of this can happen without God’s favored son:
not you. Not me. There is only one
that he will hear prayers from, so pray Jesus gets
your message right. Now you know that it’s
this way I prayed—this divine communication,
I prayed a prayer of true supplication,
and was directed to obey, without doubt, without fainting.
So I took my dog to the shelter, and kept on with the sainting.

Clyde trembled as we neared the shiny and stark
building, I handed the woman in dark
scrubs his leash, her fat fingers turned white
with gripping as Clyde lunged towards me with his might.
Don’t tempt me, I whispered. God knows this is right.
Then I turned my back on Clyde’s pitiful sight.

My dad, the terrestrial one, the one who tested
me with baseball on the Sabbath, quietly detested
my solemn commitment to absurd sacrifice,
he asked me once, then asked me twice:
why? Why would I give up my pup?
My dad called the shelter after I hung up.
He shook his head. He rolled his eyes.
Terrestrial fathers are more loving and wise
than heaven, even if they drink beer while watching game shows,
or if they use sentence enhancers. My dad goes
to Connecticut on weekends to play twenty-one,
roulette, and craps at Mohegan Sun,
and he knows what God doesn’t seem to believe:
I had the best damn thing of which one could conceive.

“I was a fool,” I say now to Clyde.
I know it. He knows it. He rolls to his side.
I rub his belly; he forgives without shame,
as I cry, and I pet, and I whisper his name.
His forgiveness is a radical, honest, pure love,
foreign to that god who abides up above.
The sick memory of desertion still remains:
Clyde licks my face. I never pray again.

***

I used to be a Mormon. And I was super-duper Morming Mormon. And then, finally, after years of sacrifices and crazy experiences, I finally woke up. I researched and studied the history of the Mormon church, it’s true foundation. And well, immediately, I was out.

Now I’ve been “processing.” I’m telling you, the Mormon church isn’t just a regular church. It’s kind of like a “light cult.” It’s a “high-demand religion.” Leaving has been both liberating, amazing, and also full of grief. It’s a crazy process.

Anyway – I don’t want to get into that too much right here in this post, but this poem, I suppose, is a part of the processing. I typically like to just write in Free verse, but I also have been trying to challenge myself with rhyming from time to time – just to learn more about words.