I Grieve Her Too.


I think my defection from the LDS church has run a pretty standard course, so I haven’t really felt like sharing my “leaving” story. But every once in a while, I get inspired to jot down some thoughts in poetry form.  My husband (who still believes, but it’s not quite fair to call him a TBM) and I have been talking lately about how losing faith in the church is a kind of grieving process. With that in mind, I wrote this a few days ago:


I Grieve Her Too.


You didn’t have to say it

for me to have seen it.

The mess, the chaos, the war.

I’m not who you married,

not what you signed up for.

Let’s admit, I’m not her anymore.


She baked, she painted,

she watched, she waited.

She pinned all her hopes on you.

You always loved telling

of her abundant faith.

I grieve the loss of her too.


She was bright-eyed, wide-eyed,

and blossomed under rule,

but felt guilt falling short of perfection.

She worried, she paced,

she practiced her lines,

to pass through the veil with no direction.


But then one day she wondered:

Is this really it?

The be-all, end-all, Truth?

For her gender uniquely,

the expectation seemed small.

Why would God need so little from her?


So she did as she was taught.

She followed the plan.

She searched, she pondered, she prayed.

When the answer that dawned

was so painfully different,

she wondered if she should just stay.


“I’m the first. I’m alone,”

she thought in despair.

“I’ve already made my bed.

To lie in it is all I can do.

Grin and bear it,

that’s the life that’s ahead.


But alone she was not.

No, not even close.

Twenty-six is too young to give up.

At the slightest reaching,

she was bombarded by support.

Peace and humor will fill her cup.


And now, what’s left?

A gaping wound

where that faith used to nestle deep.

Not surgically removed,

it was ripped from herself,

by an honest, but unfeeling thief.


That whole girl is dead.

She’s not coming back.

A new woman is here by your side.

And although I like this new one, I do.

I still grieve

the loss

of her too.