In the back pew during Sunday mass, I held the hand of my lover.
Our fingers interlocked as we shared a book and read the hymns and gospel passages
together.
Voices melting into a single sound of worship and praise.
Singing His name into every nook of the church, only echoes of a chattering congregation
remained.
One must be imagining a tall, rugged man next to me.
Towering over me with all his privilege and power struggles.
Yet, my lover is shaped like the curve of the earth.
Her eyes reflect the rapid rise and fall of the oceans tide.
You wouldn’t guess it from the look of dark brown, but her original hair color is dirty blonde.
Like hay in the loft of baby Jesus, delicate and soft.
How lucky I am to have a lover who embodies the beauty of God’s creation.
The love of Christ Himself as she wraps her arms around my waist and holds me tight.
More secure in her embrace than any home I’ve ever known.
Her gentle touch sent a warmth that spread throughout my entire body.
Assured me that despite the glacial wasteland that is grief, she’d be there as the sun who kept
me safe.
I saw a woman’s head turn to us a few times.
Serpents and Bible passages flooded her eyes as I wondered if I even belonged in God’s
kingdom.
For I cannot change this part of myself.
If the heart is a compass then mine must be defective.
It’s never pointed towards a single gender, or the desire of someone else’s flesh.
My compass has only pointed me towards love.
And if my compass is wired to search for love, she is my final destination.
My home.
Some may say we are impure.
Two wicked lost souls in a world of sexual immorality.
For us to lie in the same bed is an abomination, as they say.
But they don’t see the way she comforts me from my nightmares.
How she sees the damaged, traumatized, broken me,
and still gives me so much love you’d think she painted the sky for me.
If you are to tell me that we are lustful creatures who will never understand true love,
I will tell you to rip our skins off and take the bed away.
If our sexes suddenly melted away, and all we had were our skeletons- I’d worship every
vertebrae.
Trace the outline of her spine.
Kiss the aching joints and muscles.
If you say we are to be stoned for homosexuality, I would dare you to take the bones from our
frame.
Until all that’s left are two wandering spirits.
I would find new things to love about her everyday, even if I could never feel her touch again.
And if that still doesn’t convince you that our love is real- I’d ask you to take my life.
Throw me to the flames.
Whip out your sticks and stones.
Rebuke me in the name of the savior whom I also love.
Just spare her beautiful heart.
If all we were faded away, I’d still give my life for her stardust to carry on.
All I’d hope is that even as a speck of light, she’d remember the promise I made to her.
That I’d always be hers.
To me, she is the symphony of nature’s finest beauty.
Even though my religion, I am a cacophony of all the bitter ingredients a person can be born
with.
If I could change, truly change, being queer.
If I could overcome my pansexuality.
Would I?
Yes.
But to me, she is the exception.
Take my lungs, take my blood, take the hundreds of prayers I’ve recited at night begging for
forgiveness.
Just please don’t take my girl from me.
For she is a reminder of what Christianity is all about- love.
If I am an oxymoron, may it teach you to show compassion.
To wash feet instead of casting stones.
To have a heart full of kindness and not a snake tongue reciting clobber passages.
To love the way Jesus did- everyone included
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 