9 times turning those cellophane pages, looking for a little sliver of comfort in between the lines of "thou shall not's";

8 years old when receiving my first condemnation to hell;

7  nights spent wondering what will happen to my soul while the molecules of my ashes find themselves stuck to the walls of hospitals and picnic benches and gas leaks on gleaming wet streets;

6 times I stared at a kaleidoscope of holy colors and listened to the words tumbling out of the pastor’s mouth like children playing sharks and minnows -- but couldn't hear;

5 times the hymns of love rang out in the steeple, and 5 times that warmth and love was able to seep through the pores of everyone, but me;

4 pairs of hands and faces turned upwards, smiling, like a child running to meet its father in an airport;

3 moments I watched salty tears drip from closed eyes, merciful mouths moving, grateful to be accepted, grateful to be saved, bodies swaying and auroras mixing in a mess of hues;  

2 times I willed the chills of spirits to roll down my spine and fill my mind with the answers I can't seem to find;

1 God I am told to put my trust in;

0 times I believed.