Holy Father

Hello Father 

I’ve missed church for five years 

worth of Sundays 

The more I hear about religion

The more I realize it’s something I can’t praise 

The bible has words in it I’ve always wanted to care about 

I have tried numerous times to take those words like I take my poetry

Engrave them in my mind with emphasis, a message

But these verses read like fickle fantasies 

A story to comfort those who need something to believe in 

A golden cross used to hang low on my neck 

Passed down from my Christian grandmother 

To my mother and to me 

I never took it off because I was holding too tightly 

Grasping to an impact that was never imposed on me 

My pastor would go on for hours 

Preaching sermons that left a sour taste 

in the back of my mouth

Christianity has been forced upon me since I was a child 

I memorized the scriptures and I was dressed up every Sunday  

But when I needed God to be the best 

I got on my knees and let my words do the rest 

Every night I prayed, in my worse light

I thought he would help me 

Give the gift of his grace, and stop taking the people I love 

After I prayed that day, nothing seemed to change 

I suffered by my lonesome, started to lose my faith

Knowing He sat there, and watched me fester in pain

I feel sometimes he is too afraid, to reveal his feet

Because he’s probably let down more than just me

For God so loved this world that he

Stepped back and is watching it crumble piece by piece 

Our people are dying from violence and the climate is rising 

So I hope you can understand, 

Why I won’t put my belief 

in a man 

that I’ve never seen.

One day

I am going to have to break the news 

That my views of the all powerful, omnipotent Lord

Are not family approved 

My beliefs are in things that I have physically seen 

To be or not to be God? You are the question 

I am agnostic and that is my confession 

So I will not take anymore Christian lessons from older people

who just wanna educate me with their opinions 

Relatives who don’t listen to anything except what’s written

in a versioned book from BC

Pay attention,

This is a new era and I’m blowing my own horns

Opening my own gates, to what resonates in me 

The things that have puzzle pieced me in place 

And saved me 

Holy father, don’t bother 

I’m good now. 

About the Author

Daijah Patton is currently a junior English major/concentration in Creative Writing with a minor in Secondary Education at Arcadia University! She has always loved writing slam poetry and sharing her story with anyone who will listen. She spends a lot of her time indulging in cooking/baking, reading fiction and poetry, and trying to tell people what they should watch on Netflix :)