A child's confused and literal interpretation of God.

Doctrinal Failure

Your Father, he assured me,
– this earnest evangelical, one day, after school –
is not the one on earth you love,
but God in Heaven: He above.
I was maybe rising seven;
there because it seemed to matter,
and had promised songs and fun.
I hadn’t even told my mum.
We’d built our house upon the Rock
that held the whole world in its hands,
or something. And we’d clapped a lot.
The others seemed to understand.

But – God, my father?
Walking home late, shaken, dreary,
familiar dusty road turned eerie,
I fretted on this thing he’d said
about the terrible Usurper
of my gentle, steadfast Dad.
I felt no kin to Him at all,
as surely He felt none to me;
my spirit dwindled, grey and lonely.

And, what if Dad had always known
of this strange cuckolding Crown?
Was he living a conniving lie?
No! Impossible that he would know.
Oh, how to break it to him now?
I suffered his imagined pain
at the news of God’s disdain.

Mum must have brusquely fixed my doubts;
likely after a few shouts about my late return;
when I’d explained what I had learned.
But through this anxious interlude
I found that far from loving God,
I loved the more my own dear Dad;
and generally, God should not intrude.