unwavered

they clubbed
you like a baby seal at
saint Thomas More,
the nuns
in black,
holding their weapons
of rosaries and crosses.
every pleasure
a sin
to be avoided. you
were born bad.
hell lingered nearby
even in infancy.
on boney knees
you inhaled the perfumes
of mass,
memorized
and beat three times
your chest.
how you trembled
in line at the confessional,
in front
and behind were
your sinning peers.
penance hardly seemed
enough
to cleanse you,
but you took it gladly.
you could hide
from your parents,
your teachers,
the adults in your life,
but not
God, there he was, there
he was,
all day. all night.
still your faith
has not wavered.