loss and the love that lasts

*CW: abortion

God is not a man

with arms that want 

to strangle you out

of his own fear to 

be loved,

or a woman with

a knife for a heart.

God is the rattlesnake

that shook between my

legs hopping over rocks

this morning

in the river bottom.

Unnameable to you.

God is Black, God

is trans and gay af,

God is gender non

conforming and

blessed.

Not in our

assumptions

or in the fingers

harshly pointing.

God doesn’t stop

loving you for 

feeling grateful to 

that slaughterhouse,

that healing haven

for unborn souls to pass.

An auspicious abortion 

birthed against every-

thing my body said.

A vacuum of love

and possibility,

a selfless sacrifice. 

The shame was not mine

so I left it there with the

crackers and the news

in the aftercare room.

I took with me

the light that I felt.

Turned to places,

people that could 

not see me.

Easier to love from

far away I was

taught.

Tears smiled at the 

women sleeping upright, 

I chose to stay awake

Benedictine nuns

chanting in my ears,

the uncomfortable 

wheelchair.

Not knowing our

own bodies, but still

knowing whose they

were,

the love they 

belonged

to.

These hips don’t lie,

they never could.

The only problem

ever was, our fear 

of the truth.

This heart 

closes and opens,

hides under hard

times. These hands 

hold. A lot.

What is holy, what

is whole. Somethings 

they can never take.

I sat with the pain,

I slammed the door

shut in the name. 

Love,

you came

anyway.

In with a hurricane,

you left, my heart

just the same.

Never meant to stay.

My eyes rested

on mountains, 

these feet 

carried

across lifetimes.

You brought me angels,

and I made a promise

I have yet to keep.

But I haven’t forgotten,

No, you won’t let me.

Each squeeze of the

sobbing heart, 

each womb 

frozen yet

awakening, birthing

what’s yet to come.