#soft anger

Dear God,

I used to know what to say. I used to have a list. Of people to keep safe, of things to bless, of thanks to give.

It was easy once.

Back when I believed that kindness was armor. Back when I thought faith was something you earned by being small and good and always smiling.

Back when I thought if I kept my promises— you would keep yours too.

But now… I don’t know what to ask for. Because I asked you for him.

I asked you to bless this love. I asked you to keep my heart steady. I asked you to make me gentle, holy, beautiful in the kind of way someone stays for.

And he still left.

So now I sit here with folded hands and nothing to fold into.

Because I don’t want to ask for something I know you won’t give me. And I don’t want to pretend I’m not angry.

Yes, I said it. I’m angry.

At him. At me. At you.

I’m angry that I kept showing up with an open heart and he kept showing up with empty hands.

I’m angry that I stayed good and still got broken.

And maybe that’s not fair. Maybe that’s not how it works. But it’s how it feels.

Still… I don’t want to stop talking to you.

Even if I don’t have the words. Even if all I can offer is the silence between Our Father and Amen.

So if you’re still listening—

Please hold the parts of me I can’t hold right now. Please see me, even when I don’t shine. Please don’t leave, even when I don’t pray the right way.

I don’t need miracles anymore.

Just mercy.

Just a quiet place to rest my heart.

Why can’t we just let people love each other?

Why does the world flinch

when love shows up

in the “wrong” body,

with the “wrong” name,

holding the “wrong” hand?

So he’s a homosexual—

what about it?

The sky didn’t crack.

The earth didn’t split.

Love didn’t die.

It just asked to breathe.

I’ve been conflicted for so long

I mistook pain for confusion,

silence for peace.

I grieved—

denial, anger, bargaining with a god

who never asked to be cruel,

depression heavy as shame,

until acceptance finally found me

and sat quietly at my side.

And now I know:

people should be allowed to love

whoever their heart runs toward—

regardless of color,

regardless of gender,

regardless of the fear stitched into old rules.

My heart aches for those

who never got to hold hands in public,

for little boys told to toughen up

when all they wanted was to be soft,

for little girls taught that loving another girl

was something to unlearn,

to pray away,

to bury alive.

They never got the chance to be happy.

And for those who still can’t—

I’m sorry.

Truly.

You deserved more than survival.

So please—

live your life.

Take up space.

Love loudly or quietly,

recklessly or gently.

And fuck everyone

who says otherwise.