Pushed out head first into this world as a daughter of god

puréed biblical passages in baby food canisters,

a little stomach, the size of the baby's fist, still growled in hunger

The infant wore doll clothes

sanctimony cradled, rocked and poisoned the newlyborn;

growing up tiny as ever, mommy diced up the new testament,

and the tot suffered malnutrition

Aging, the premature baby understood that its diet was inadequate;

the void wasn't satisfied with stories.

the icons scowled at the child, but smiled at others

their golden halos twinkled and blinded its eyes

There was a need for something more.

she did push ups on a platform of facts,

gradually building up strength.

The yearn for philosophy and truth was almost unquenchable

Born in the fetal position, umbilical chord connecting the infant to the house of god,

She will die in the fetal position, clutching knowledge, passing with one last wise nod