They wanted me on my knees,

but it was you I knelt for.

They offered me the body of Christ,

but instead I wanted yours,

finding that it sated and sanctified me more.

They told me about the One True Love,

and I thought I'd found it,

but it wasn't the one they meant.

They taught me of His suffering on the cross,

and I pictured you, laying back smiling

and crucified on a bed of daisies and dirt.

They wove a crown of thorns

and you mocked them

by wearing it at a jaunty angle.

They spoke of miracles

and I remembered the wonders you'd wrought

on my inexperienced flesh:

water into wine did not impress me,

and neither could slake my thirst as you could.

They made me learn the words of prayers I didn't mean

when all I wanted on my tongue

was you.

They talked about Heaven,

and I replied that I'd already been there.

They propagated shame,

but I could see you, radiant in your nakedness,

and I knew they were lying.

They damned

and you redeemed.

They brainwashed

and you gave back identity.

They demanded my faith.

In you,

I found something I could believe in.