Anymore.
I don’t go in churches anymore.
I used to find some comfort in them;
hoping to find something that I
thought was taken or misplaced.
Instead I found, even those who
pretend to be holy couldn’t give it
to me; dressed as angels but actions
that only demons could perform.
None as clean as they seem; fathers
who are anything but fatherly.
Especially my own. His sermons
drilled into my mind day after day
without any rhymes, just harshness
that rubbed my skin raw.
“You’re a bitch. Shave this and this.
Boys won’t love you if you don’t
watch your weight.” I wasn’t aware
that “loving” myself meant hating
my body before all else. Tearing it apart,
diet after diet, razor after razor,
digging myself into the ground
trying go run away from meals that
I had only tasted…
I don’t go to church anymore.
I guess I figured out there is nothing
holier than truly caring for yourself.
ReBecca DeFazio
More Than a Flower