Jehovah is King

Jehovah is King–

you don’t have the room

to spare inside your

prune shaped heart, so dark,

wrapped in shriveled skin.

Jehovah is King–

his name is sour

on my tongue; I gag

on the testaments

you blindly recite.

Jehovah is King–

you sold him your soul

at the cost of your

daughter and two sons,

plus five grandchildren.

Jehovah is King–

you’re missing the point.

You are not Christian.

You are not human.

I will not mourn you.

I’m glad I have your potato salad recipe.


        1. My grandma lives in Texas; she’d moved there years ago. She’d come up to Michigan for her neice’s funeral a year ago, and for her brother-in-law’s funeral, which was today. But when my Aunt Denise passed just a few months ago, she did not come home for that. Her daughter-in-law…my mom is still seething. When she mentioned Aunt Denise, and how awful her passing has been, my grandma said, “I imagine it was,” and turned away to talk to someone else. My mother, in need of her own, was blown off. I feel awful for my uncle, who lost his wife. He doesn’t have his mother to find comfort in. And it’s because of the religion she holds dear, and her children do not. My grandma didn’t come to wedding because it wasn’t a Witness wedding. She’s sacrificed her family for what she thinks is Jehovah’s will.

          Liked by 1 person

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