They told me that in everything alive
There was a part of you,
That in times of darkness,
You would hold my hand
And guide me through.

Who are you?
Oh god! Who are you?
Of your might, tales are told
Of your charity, songs are sung
But, Oh god! Who are you?

I held your hand, whoever you were,
In my childish innocence, persistent to meet you.
They took me to the temple, the church, the mosque:
We sang melodiously, we ate rapaciously
But, Oh god! Where were you?

We continued to save our Sundays for the Church,
To talk to the clouds so divine.
In them, I asked, tell me who does perch?
The lord, you say. The God.
The man who built the world so pretty.

I bow my head in devout prayer:
Dear father who art in heaven,
Do grant my wishes and answer my innocent question.
If you created the world, who created you?
I hear no voice, the sky remains silent.

You are perfect in every way-
Omnipotent, omnipresent, omniscient.
Why, then, in all your perfection
Is the world so imperfect, dear god?
Killing, Brutality, Rape: it does seem so odd.

My questions find no answer, my thoughts find no basis.
As time goes by, I recede
Out of this blinding stage of intellectual infancy
To discover that my thoughts are not my own,
And into thoughtful clarity.

Your creator, dear lord, is indoctrination.
And on your beloved creation,
Your name has destroyed many a nation.
Praise the lord, the world exclaims.
Oh, so naïve, unknowing of the demons that maim.