Image: Patrick Dougher

unlearning a (color)blind god

If I am to believe I was born from of the womb of God
Fashioned and formed and filled with divine
Then I refuse to believe in a God
A creator
With less capacity than her creation

I refuse to believe she doesn’t rage at injustice
To a greater degree than I rage
That my indignation of violence
Overshadows her own
I refuse to believe she isn’t familiar with the pit of grief
That I have often called home
That my mourning over dead brothers
And murdered sisters
And a suffering humanity
Has fallen on deaf ears

If I am to believe I am made in Her image,
Then you can consider my fury, my sorrow, my turmoil as holy
My stomping, my cursing, my crying as sacred
My demanding, my defying, my resisting as righteous