Daddy? Daddy, I never believed in God. No one believes
in oxygen or sun rays and moon beams. People ask
questions, I used to, but lost curiosity half a life ago
when I was four. Remember when you asked if I wanted
Jesus in my heart? \u201cNo,\u201d I giggled, but no one else got
the joke. What else in the world could I want, Daddy?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I believe in hell, never more than when my overactive
imagination is fueled with fire and brimstone and eternal
flame and suffering gnashing through the skin of bodies
of the children born in earthly places, flashes in a pan,
not special like me who\u2019s going to heaven. I am going, right, Daddy?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I invited Jesus in, and He loves me, this I know, but
the other night as I laid awake staring away from my nightlight
straight at the shadows cast across the empty ceiling where I painted fires of my own imaginings,
beautiful flames to burn and melt in, flames that sink right through your chest, Daddy, that make
your heart beat hot dripping bitter blood down the cuts in your skin where the ashes seep through
I felt an itch.
The itch of sackcloth on bare skin, the itch that can only be scratched
with broken nails and pottery shards until your life beads on your skin.
I stared into the dark and I asked Jesus
to get out of my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daddy, I think He left.
Daddy, how do I get Him back?
Daddy, I didn\u2019t mean it, I don\u2019t want to go to hell I believe in heaven.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The velvet red carpet and crystal chandeliers of hotel hallways,
the pristine and neat and sanitized ever after. A solitary hallway,
perfect to meditate and daydream and Daddy, in those moments
I believe I want to be there forever. I\u2019ve a talent for forcing whimsy.
What else is the heart of a young child designed for but peace
and wonder and joy in beauty. I am good at shedding my skin,
drifting down carpets, and imagining eternity as an ageless spirit<\/p>\n\n\n\n
pretending I don\u2019t want a body long enough
that I almost believe it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Don\u2019t worry, Daddy. I\u2019ve learned to pine
for God, as He pines for me, ignoring questions
about His intentions in setting me so solidly
down His path, closer to His light and fleeing
the hypnotic temptations of the dark, trekking through dirt
until my feet crack and bleed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Yet when I lie awake at night and remember Jesus\u2019s holy light
that is coming to melt my flesh and take me home to Him
I tighten my fists on the headboard, and till my knuckles are white,
cling to the earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Daddy? Daddy, I never believed in God. No one believesin oxygen or sun rays and moon beams. People askquestions, I used to, but lost curiosity half a life agowhen I was four. Remember when you asked if I wantedJesus in my heart? \u201cNo,\u201d I giggled, but no one else gotthe joke. What else in the … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2264","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-Aw","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2264","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2264"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2264\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2265,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2264\/revisions\/2265"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2264"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2264"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2264"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Hannah Beairsto hails from the Poconos in Northeast Pennsylvania, home of ski resorts, waterfalls, and family fun. She spends most of her days holed in her room writing. She has no pets, spouses, or children to brag about, and would like everyone to remember her first name is a palindrome.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"