Gay God

Good God
My God
I am not at the cross begging for redemption. 
I am busy making my own church.

I call it my friend’s bedroom. I call it the one booth at the cafe around the corner. The red barn that sits on the hill waiting for me to approach it. The labyrinth of trees in the forest where I walk my dog. I call it the laugh that traveled over the ocean on a phone call. The circle of us, holding tightly, refuting the lie that our love & embodiment are western imports. The embrace I receive when I am witnessed fully. 

I call it the closet when I have to because sometimes the closet is the closest I get to safety & sometimes safety is the only taste we get of freedom. 

I call my church queer & trans & wanted & holy. You can find me at the altar.

I know I often skip Sunday morning sermons in lieu of sleeping 
but I’m consistent in my Monday morning praise, God. 

My God
Good God
Gay God 

Let love be a protector. Let love be a beacon. Let love be a promise. Let love be liberation. Let love be a rally cry. Let love be a long awaited kiss. Let love by joyfu. Let love be goodbye. Let love be what we do between the bedsheet with the lights on. Let love be the hand slipped into anothers’. Let love be the understanding over coffee. Let love be the breakup. Let love be the reintroduction. Let love be the name change. Let love be the tears at the funeral. Let love be the resolve to invest in safety. Let love be the gender affirming surgery. Let love be the wedding vows. Let love be self-defense. Let love be militant when it needs to be. Let love be community. Let love drive out shame. Let love be a balm. Let love be present in our grief. Let love be the rage in our bellies. Let love be you can’t fuck with us anymore. Let love be we will not lose another one of ours to hate. 
Let love be our witness. 
Let love let us never forget everyone who didn’t make it through the slaughter. 
Let love be what the survivors are holding onto when they’ve outlived the genocide.

Let love be.

Amen. 
& again, amen.