Long ago I used to pray. Those times a cousin's cock was thrust into my eight year old body. I still believed God was good as tissue was violated.

Long ago I used to pray. Those times my fathers fist rained down like a southern thunderstorm. I still believed God was there as bruises painted my skin.

Long ago I used to pray. Those times my mother calmly said I was the worse thing to ever happen to her. I still believed God had a plan as I felt her words, an eroding knowledge.

Long ago I used to pray. Those times my neck enclosed within my fathers grip. Coldly stating my life would amount to nothing. I still believed God was love  as I learned of powerlessness.

Long ago I used to pray. But my knees have not touched the ground. I know there is nothing beyond or within.