Raped by Jesus

I lie sprawled on the stairs
Behind the towering church steeple.
Its long, gray shadow
Hides me from the people.
My flowing white dress
Is bunched at my knees.
Bloody lips between my legs
And torn, white blood-stained panties.

I confessed to my Father,
"I think I have sinned."
He said to me,
"My child, tell me what you did."
"I have found pleasure and seen the lies of Your teachings.
You've put You on a shelf,
But now I've thrown You off
And begun to think for myself."

He said unto me,
"My daughter, you're right--that's a sin.
I think you are lost,
And I'll help guide you back in."
"But I've seen who You are,
And I don't want to be like You."
He simply said to me,
"I'm sorry. That's not something you can choose."

"But, Father," I questioned,
"How can that be wrong?
It's been Your unchanging way
For far too long."
"It just isn't right
Because I believe He says it's so."
"But what if You're mistaken?
How can You...You can't really know."

"Father," I pleaded,
"I just cannot trust You.
What if I no longer have faith in Him?"
"You must! I will make you."
"What are You doing?"
"I'm making you believe
In the power of the Lord, my child."
"Please, let go of me!"

"This is your retribution.
This is how God wants it."
"NO! Stop it, you son of a bitch!"
"Just relax. It will be over in a minute.
Please, settle down, my child.
Please do not yell.
Church is a quiet place,
Safe from Satan's Hell."

"God dammit! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
"The Lord's good, dear, sweet name should never be taken in vain,
For if it is, my child,
It will cause you nothing but great pain.
I hope through this
You'll see today,
That the Lord gets angry
When you don't obey."

I could not fight his aggression
As jesus looked on and watched over us
With his arms outstretched
On his stained wooden cross.
I managed to crawl outside
But collapsed on the steps.
I fell to the concrete with my arms outstretched.
With little remaining visceral strength, I wept.

So now I lie sprawled on the stairs
Behind the towering church steeple.
Its long, gray shadow
Hides me from the people.
My flowing white dress
Is bunched at my knees.
Bloody lips between my legs
And torn, white blood-stained panties.

---

Originally written:    February 20, 1999
Put online:    November 18, 2001
Discussion:    This poem, obviously, portrays my continued issues with Christianity. The hypocrisy is evident, but it goes deeper than that. Believe it or not, this poem was actually published in UWGB's "The Sheepshead Revue." This took me completely by surprise--I thought, being a relatively conservative community, they'd send the lynch mob after me the moment I submitted it for publication. My hope, in writing it, was that everyone who read it would feel uncomfortable or creepy. Indeed, several readers have told me that this poem made them squirm. This is how I feel about religion in general and Christianity in particular. The poem is in no way meant to be anti-woman, and if that is what is interpreted, the point is being missed. I could have just as easily used an 8-year-old boy, but I thought the adult woman was more effective (old enough to have reached the age of reason, etc.). I thought, also, that it would be easier for the reader to relate to the woman than to the boy. The poem starts out with a conversation between the woman and her religious "father" and ends with her rape. This rape is both literal and figurative. Literal in the sense of the physical rape and figurative in the sense of an intellectual rape--that of the brainwashing or mind control in the woman's past. Furthermore, the lack of capitalization at the end (i.e. jesus, his, etc.) indicates a complete loss of respect for anything Christian and the betrayal that she feels.


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