Prayer

I don’t know if you are real
and I don’t want to be fooled
anymore, letting myself be born
into beliefs that are both wrong
and profoundly harmful – two-edged
sword slicing my insides
as it tears stranger into enemy.

I feel silly in ways
I didn’t as a kid,
writing to  you
this time unsure.

doubt was a gift
forbidden, fruit
unappetizing like
soft apples.
I didn’t understand
its appeal until
I sauced it into spoons
sprinkled with mystical
cinnamon-hope.

I guess I don’t care
at all, if you are –
my life is the same
either way. I do not need
a voice in the clouds,
white beard dipping down
observing, policing,
reality-TV-ing my most
secret sacred psyche.

the past did its job.
can think on my own
two-damn-feet, decide
what is good, behave
regardless of supreme watchdog
doling punishment or reward.
find treasure enough
            here on earth.

I still suffer from sunk cost
invested in you, real or not –
so I pray
you are better than I was taught

less like war
more like wind

Joann Renee Boswell is a member of Sierra Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends. Two more of her poems, “Pronoia” and “Imposter Syndrome,” are published online at: https://westernfriend.org/media/poems-joann-renee-boswell.