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Killing Kids Softly.
A poem for people helping LGBTQ kids die.
And they wrote of them as less than. Some as abominations for who they loved.
And yet some were a different sort of of preacher. Gracious and gentle and soft in their proselytizing.
They wrote of them as loved and embraced in the arms of God. Come to Him.
And so His flock smiled warmly at the teens. They offered youth-filled God memes and emojis splashed across social media to capture fallen ears.
Yet they spoke of this group with a hint of pity.
They spoke of them as God commanded:
You are loved. Come to me.
But Do Not Be Who You Are.
Repent.
Turn around my Beloveds and see the righteousness against the wrongness of your choice.
And then my precious ones, I will embrace you with holiness and wholeness.
For every parent who prays out loud to cast away the “sins” of LGBTQ+ kids, they kill the innocents, the innocence.
Every time they worship the manufactured-by-man Jesus, one born of fear and ignorance and of beautiful Wrath, the walls of their church vibrate in His Glory.
Meanwhile at home their son or daughter cuts and swallows and bleeds and hangs, eyes darkened into silence, gradually dying the agony of Blessed relief.
In the Name of Him.
In the Name of parental rejection. The child once loved as “the most beautiful baby in the whole world,” now an ugly disappointment.
So in the end God bends down at His child’s grave and weeps…
And declares with soft anger:
“If only you’d listened my child. For you always had the choice to be who I told you to be, yet you chose eternal fire. And committed the sin of taking your own life. I cannot save you. So burn gently my child, burn gently.”
