there are still mothers weeping at tombs: an Easter Sunday poem on Transgender Day of Visibility

i’d want to save my child too. 
so i don’t always blame God for what happened…

i’d want the transmogrification & the transcendence. 
i’d want the tomb as possibility. 

embodiment that felt right. 
i’d want the empire to know it doesn’t win. not this time. 

my God is big enough 
for the questioning that some call apostasy

while i maintain it as faith
so i often wonder if God made a mistake.

there were three crosses on the hill
a child walked away from death three days later. 

& two people stayed buried. 
mothers are still weeping

while a father pulled a son out of a void
& back home. 

not everything that kills us saves us. some heavens cost too much. 
i was taught that believing in a haven

is believing the entry is covered by the blood of those we kill.
there were three crosses on the hill.

a dead son returned to his family alive & holy because of their transness
& i ask God why their child had to be killed to prove they are sanctified. 

some heavens cost too much. but we pay anyway. 
you can lose your name to find another. 

you can lose your skin to find yourself. 
you can lose the life you had life in search of sanctuary & 

wholeness &
if you’re lucky

if your congregation knows how consecrated transition is
& doesn’t want you dead in order for God to resurrect you

maybe your mother won’t be found crying at a tomb that won’t open.