If you’re reading this,

it’s probably because the world has grown teeth again.

Sharp ones.

And someone, somewhere,

has mistaken their fear for scripture.

---

I want to tell you something,

and I want you to remember it

like your own name in your own voice.

You are not a mistake.

You are not a contradiction.

You are not a sin

that snuck past the gates of Heaven

wearing a hoodie, and hoping not to be seen.

---

You are divine

in ways the pages of their ancient book

forgot how to describe.

You are every sunrise

they never looked up to witness.

You are love

before it’s been broken down

into rules, revisions, and red tape.

---

Listen to me very carefully,

because the world won’t always say it this plainly.

There is nothing wrong with you.

Not your softness.

Not your sharpness.

Not the way your truth

refuses to fold itself

into smaller shapes

just to make other people comfortable.

---

Some people will try to turn

Their Deity into a weapon

and aim it at you.

So remember,

anything that demands your erasure

to prove its holiness

is neither holy, nor worth your time.

---

Their sermons

are not stronger than my love.

Their bigotry

is not bigger than your light.

You never have to shrink to survive,

not while I have breath.

I will always stand

between you and their stones.

---

I will always be the place

you can come back to,

even if your voice is shaking,

even if your hands are tired

from building yourself over and over

in the aftermath of their ignorance.

And if anyone tells you

that your existence is an offense to their God,

look them in the eyes, and tell them:

---

“My father (who art in Devon) taught me

that love doesn’t need permission.”