Her & her

I'm Brave Enough Now (Almost)

This is me being brave enough to read from my list

I loved Her because she made my body substantive and grounded my soul behind my eyes, preventing me from drifting behind and three inches to the left

I loved her because she made me feel essential and bestowed upon me the duty of being her friend, I connected the feeling of her soul with wanting to be alive

I love myself because I never want to find myself in the three am swamp of my life without brandishing the torches of friends and the comfort of family twinkling in constellations spelling out their choices as to why they continue to love me

I love myself because the fight to love myself is far sweeter than the fight to remind myself why I am broken when everyone keeps telling me how they love my smile, how I am amazing, how I will become someone fantastic someday

I love myself because I have learned to love the acid of the lemons and limes the universe continues to place between my teeth

I love myself because I will one day become who I want to be

I love myself because I am me

(Some days I don't)

This is me being brave enough to read from my list

I love the fields of wildflowers that have grown amongst my cells as I am dipped by my ankle into the waters of self-care

Lavenders have been etched into my veins by the angels

And carnations wreathed between the hairs of my body by the ghosts of those who uprooted their own

I will encourage these flowers of mine to grow in the memory and honour of those who were razed by the pyres of fear and loathing fanned by the corruption of humans drunk on power and indulgences

I love the double rainbows that grace my crown like a halo of the saints I am convinced will reject me at the final gate

Saints who my mother has told me are like me

Saints whose halos are rainbows

Saints I still cannot separate from the words of my church's elders

Even though I still have panic attacks at the thought of crossing the threshold of such holy ground

I love the colours and flowers that have been patched into the quilt of my soul

I love the rainbows that the Universe has painted into my skin with the watercolours of life and the billowing ink of a tenderness I am still learning to reciprocate

I no longer satisfy the demons in my veins with the internalized animosity of homophobia and Catholic guilt, instead I force feed them a specialized virus bred from the petri dish of the heart I am still teaching to devote to itself first

I no longer hate myself for who I love

(Almost)

This is me being brave enough to read from my list

I will make my own church until they decide to love me

I will keep searching until I find a home in the shape of a building, in the hands of a community

Until stained glass is pretty once again

Until that glass is stained with ink, not blood

Maybe one day hymns won't induce panic attacks and flashbacks

I am brave enough now to read from my list

(Almost)