by Kathie Giorgio
Trigger Warning: The following poem narrates scenes of the sexual abuse of a child by an adult.
I was always told that
God is Love.
From the church I no longer attend
From the catechism I’ve forgotten
From Buddhists, reiki masters, Wiccans,
psychics, evangelists, all whose words
have blended together into a quagmire.
But… God is Love, I was told.
My ninth grade science teacher wore a
pin on the lapel of his suit jacket.
Every day. In a public school.
It said, “PTL Anyway!”
I asked him what it meant, in a quiet moment
during study hall.
He said, “Praise The Lord Anyway!” and laughed.
Then he asked me if I was saved.
I was anything but.
He told me to follow him and we weaved through
the classroom of students and desks. Right in
front of them. They turned and watched us go.
He held my hand.
He took me to the storeroom at the back. We went
inside. He shut the door. Locked it. Turned off
the Light.
Then he folded my hands between his and he prayed.
For me. He prayed hard. His hands grew warm around mine.
I thought I felt the Holy Spirit.
And then
Well, and then
he put my hands on himself.
and then his hands on me.
He lifted me onto a table and laid me back.
As he pressed into me, he said,
“Always remember I love you. Always remember.”
God is Love. PTL Anyway!
And I so wanted Love, I didn’t fight back.
I was fourteen years old.
I have always remembered his declaration.
And I’ve always wondered about Right and Wrong.
And now
Well, and now
I think of all the stories I was told. All the stories I read
as I devoured the bible front to back, side to side, old and new.
Looking for God. Looking for Love.
The Good Samaritan, who helped the beaten man on the side of
the road, passed over by others.
The rich man who boasted of his wealth, giving to the church,
but only from his surplus
while a poor woman gave all she had.
Two pennies.
Let the little children come unto me.
Jesus wept.
And I shudder as I think of those who call themselves Christians
electing a man they say is of God, who would push the Samaritan
out of his way
and kick the beaten man over the border.
The man of God, who held up an upside-down bible with one hand
while grabbing women “by the pussy,” he said, with the other.
The man of God, who would save bits of tissue
tissue with no heart, no brain, no body,
no thoughts, no wants, no cares
and ignore the cries of children who are hungry.
Who are cold.
Who have no homes.
Who are looking for Love.
Who become pregnant by a man who wears a pin.
PTL Anyway!
And I hear again now, God is Love.
I think back to that ninth grade science teacher
who made me feel like I might be Loved
Whose PTL Anyway button pressed into my bare breast
as he pressed into me.
And I gasped with the hope of it.
I cried with the pain of it.
And then spent years, wondering about Right and Wrong.
PTL Anyway
But I feel the last nail driven in,
not the Holy Spirit.
I see who they call a man of God
and what they believe God’s Love would do.
There are no hands to deliver my spirit into.
I believe in Nietzsche.
God is Dead.
Kathie Giorgio is the author of eight novels, two story collections, an essay collection, and four poetry collections. A new poetry collection Let Me Tell You; Let Me Sing will be released in 2026. She’s been nominated for the Pushcart Prize in fiction and poetry and awarded the Outstanding Achievement Award from the Wisconsin Library Association, the Silver Pen Award for Literary Excellence, the Pencraft Award for Literary Excellence, and the Eric Hoffer Award In Fiction. She is the director/founder of AllWriters’ Workplace & Workshop LLC. 
