Catechism for the Misled Child
By M. Allshouse
Who made you?
Answers taught to me in youth,
bearing the fruit of religion’s labor.
Catechism taught as fact—
despite being merely craft.
God made me.
Or so I’m told.
I doubt I’ll believe it—
once I’m old.
Made to know Him.
To love Him.
Like a constructed doll.
Serving Him,
although I’m trapped—
within confessional walls.
What is a soul?
I ache to know the truth.
Do I even have one at all,
or was it never mine to lose?
Eternal life—
God’s great gift.
But first,
I have to pay the toll.
The toll to an unseen God
who is above,
underneath,
behind—
not at all.
Everywhere all at once,
but nowhere when I fall.
If God knows everything,
does He know who will follow along?
And if He does,
the game is rigged.
There’s no free will at all.
Let me repeat my catechism
and pretend that there are rules.
But when the rules
only apply to me,
I’m nothing but a fool.
Damned if I do,
damned if I don’t.
This was never a child’s game to stall.
Repeat the prayers,
kneel when told—
but still be left outside the gates,
cold.
Catechism for the Misled Child
By M. Allshouse
Who made you?
Answers taught to me in youth,
bearing the fruit of religion’s labor.
Catechism taught as fact—
despite being merely craft.
God made me.
Or so I’m told.
I doubt I’ll believe it—
once I’m old.
Made to know Him.
To love Him.
Like a constructed doll.
Serving Him,
although I’m trapped—
within confessional walls.
What is a soul?
I ache to know the truth.
Do I even have one at all,
or was it never mine to lose?
Eternal life—
God’s great gift.
But first,
I have to pay the toll.
The toll to an unseen God
who is above,
underneath,
behind—
not at all.
Everywhere all at once,
but nowhere when I fall.
If God knows everything,
does He know who will follow along?
And if He does,
the game is rigged.
There’s no free will at all.
Let me repeat my catechism
and pretend that there are rules.
But when the rules
only apply to me,
I’m nothing but a fool.
Damned if I do,
damned if I don’t.
This was never a child’s game to stall.
Repeat the prayers,
kneel when told—
but still be left outside the gates,
cold.