Recently I read an excellent poetry book entitled “Shit House Rat“, written by Daniel Crocker (a fellow bipolar writer). The poetry in this collection is brutally honest, gritty, and humorous, and even engages some of our favorite characters from Sesame Street in a way that is unique and really outlines the harsh reality of adult life “on the street” .
One poem that especially triggered some thought on my part is one called “A Dream of Siblings”, in which the poet has a dream about his deceased brother being trapped in a sort of hell. Like me, the author no longer believes in a literal hell, at least not of the Christian theological kind, but as the following lines from the poem show, he still struggles to let go of that old belief in a fiery pit of torture:
“Even though I gave up
believing in this shit
years ago, I still wonder
Maybe I never gave up believing
Maybe, once having faith, no one
ever gives up believing
Even if the things we believe in
are horrifying.”
Me too. Don’t believe in hell. I think us humans are quite capable of creating hell on earth for one another.
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So true!
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i’m not sure i believe in a literal hell well because the abuse i went through was severe, prolonged, ritualistic abuse, by people who believed in satan and who tortured us on that grounds, so yeah, i’m a bit messed up when it comes to all that stuff. xx
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Oh, wow, so sorry you went through that! I can’t even imagine.
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Thanks hugs I appreciate your support 💝
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