Doctrine on Fire

Most of my life has been spent at the mercy of some higher power,

spent believing that an all-knowing beingwould damn me for my imperfections.

I was taught that evil existedwithin the tenderness of my aching heart.

Taught that to question my supposed sinful naturewas an act against God.

Taught that my flesh,feminine as she was,smooth and soft,would cause men to stumble.

And when they did find themselvestripping over my collarbones,slipping down the curve of my waist,when their fingers traced up my leg without my consent,

it was supposedly my fault. I provoked them. 

If you don’t want snakes to dance, don't charm them. Right? 

I was taught that to disobey authoritywould result in an eternity on fire.

Funny, though,

I have always been in awe of fire.

When you have spent your life like this, At the mercy of God, at the mercy of man, it is not hard to find yourselfat the mercy of someone else's indecision.

There was a timeI would have done anythingto gain the approval of another person.

To make them stay. To make them happy. Even at the cost of my comfort. 

I altered my demeanor to appear sweeter,stayed silent in the face of ridicule and abuse. Was pious and prude.

And then one day I stopped. One day I gained the devils approval. I have been toldmy defiance allowed himto live inside me. Told that I was demonic.

Stubborn.

Manipulative.

Little girl.

I am stubborn, for sure. Yes.

But maybe,

just maybe,

I am not demonic, or manipulative.

Perhaps I am notthe church's disapproval,

not the doctrinethey pressed into my skinand dared to call salvation,

not my mother's rage,my father's unspoken words,my brother's unfinished business,

or the unbearable silenceof my loudest suffering.

Perhaps I am notthe weight of my first heartache,

or the shamethat a rapist left inside me.

Maybe that shame belongs to him.

And maybe, just maybe  

I am not the grief or the violence

he trapped into my womanhood.

Maybe I am notthe sound of slamming doorsor shattered glass.

Maybe I have always been in awe of fire

because I belong to it. Belong to her.

Maybe there has never beenanything wrong with me,

just me existingin all the wrong places,

letting all the wrong peopletake turnsallowing their pain a home inside me.

PerhapsI have never been at the mercyof someone else's indecision,

but that of my own.

Maybe there is no hell for me.

And never has been.

And never will be.

Yet,

something about losingthe comfort and warmthof fire and flame makes me homesick. 

Homesick for a place I never deserved,but was always toldI was meant for.

And maybe I'd go willingly.

After all,

I have always been in awe of fire.

Sarah Amoros