I was born
Naked



And cold.
And



I was
Alone.



Quietly,
I



Grew and aged;
Sat



On my grandfather's knee,
Waiting



For the day's story.
For



Stories about his childhood and
God.



I delighted in his stories
But



Detested their ends.
He



Always promised more and
Never



Denied me a tale or three the next time I
Came



Over for a visit.
Eventually,



I got too old for his stories.
I



Began to tell my own stories and
Told



Them to friends.
God



Was a mere memory faded into
Oblivion.



If he heard, he
Wasn't



Letting on. The
Real



World kept spinning
And



I kept busy.
Neither



God nor grandfather
Was



Of any importance any more.
He



Was hurt but
I



Never noticed. God probably
Hated



Me as much as I hated
Myself.



But I grew from there.
Leaving



My old self
Was



Freeing. It wasn't
Hard



To empty out and leave my intrails
Outside



My front door.
God



Became important again. I
Wasn't



The same child.
There,



I began again
To



Rebuild myself. I was to
Protect



Myself, but I did have help. Family protected
Me



From plenty of pain.
I



Slept soundly and
Was



Undisturbed. I often felt
Naked,



But free and was never
Cold.



I was safe in God
And



In family. I wasn't
Alone



But rather bathed
In



Familiarity. I experienced new
Birth,



Lavished in life,
And



Saw no
Death.