your god | my god

my son falls asleep with prayer dissolving on
his tongue eyes closed
safety and peace his dreams
statistically your god answers the prayers of
white boys who ask for these things
what god paves paradise and
puts in a parking lot what god sends his people to the
capitol steps right across the street from a hospital where people are
ventilated intubated
dying of disease
what god commands my people be set free
for haircuts and the bar scene
craft breweries
and what god tells white fathers to sacrifice their children at the top of Mount Supremacy
risks and ridicules trans dignity and identity for sport
what god laughs in the face of diversity
posts on social media making mockery of suffering
what god honors the delusional tendencies of Putin
and minimizes the contributions of women
and queer kids on their mission
and what god creates the splendor of color and rainbow and flavor and shameless celebration and then chooses a piece of white boring WonderBread for his last meal

i do not know your god

if we're picking gods and idols I want the one reflected in
Ketanji Brown Jackson's countenance as she faces
systemic patriarchy and white supremacy with the full weight of her holy and unshakeable accomplishment
the actual defensible let my people go
I will make a shrine to Lia Thomas as she makes waves across a nation
I will sing psalms to science and light candles to the whole rainbow of belief
I will pay homage to Nancy and Jennie Rosenbrahn who spent 38 years declaring that hate has no place in backwards and bigoted South Dakota where their love paved a way for my holy honest and authentic brother to someday say I do to his husband before such a cloud of witnesses
let me say a prayer before the temple of this love
may my god dwell not in structure or system or building or design
may she live outside every box, shattering ceilings, uncontained by shorelines or borderlands
let me kiss and clean the feet of Jesus crossing the river from Mexico
of every Ukrainian god-child singing anthems of freedom
let me memorialize the religion of the broken chains, the trails of tears, my friend Jenny's holy holy holy, lord god almighty, existence after her mother's mother survived Wounded Knee.

let me say, megaphone, microphone, scream,
that you have bastardized the love of a virgin born story - that a god you claim to be both fatherless and father has abandoned his creation
that you tell this story with pride
let me tell you my god is a bastard, fatherless, and a single father of color
my god is a houseless neighbor holding high their windburnt chin against the oppression of colonization and its traditions of addiction
my god is in kindergarten and she wears the same pair of panties to school every day under the same pair of size 6T pants because my god is waiting for your high castle to crumble, your city in the hill to turn on the lights, your parking lot of overfed gluttons to stop their performance of piety and do what my god called yours to do

Learn to do right; seek justice.
Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
plead the case of the widow
Love your neighbor as yourself

my god is the yeast scent of broken bread, her open legs, the blood-born mystery, the birth of creation

how could god be anything but the sunlight sweeping sandy feet, the softness of a stretchmarked stomach, the spectrum of skintone, the hummingbird wing

show me your warlord god and I will walk you, by hand, tip toeing across high lines, scrambling over high places, dancing next to open street sewers to meet mine

she is there
not in the dreams of a white boy in the suburbs but in the
intensive care wing of St. Jude’s
the rubble of Kiev
the wacipi of Paha Sapa
sun kissed and grass stained, laugh-breathless and so small you might miss her
if you fall asleep with prayer dissolving on
your tongue eyes closed
safety and peace your dreams