Month: July 2016


My mother regards my lack of religion

As a choice to abandon our native tongue,

Speaking only as a heretic now.

My faith was never meant to be a hammer upon her traditions.

How desperately I want to piece her heart back together without cutting myself

on the jaded edges of compromise.

Your religion and heart are the same–

Each a rural hometown I send postcards to now.

I don’t worship in the house you do,

And that makes it no less sacred.

You defiant daughter is not the product of a lesser God.

Sacrament is what I call every selfless act someone else has done for me.

I am baptized in the gaze of everyone who sees me as I am.

Every thank you I say is a hallelujah,

Every I love you, an Amen.




i want to be so loud you can’t hear my hurt,

a string of nonsensical rebuttals so long you can’t untangle them back to the fears they’re tied to,

and when rage has wrung my lungs of air and your stamina gives way,

the thunderous hurt will linger.