My God is black
my God is trans
My God is “disabled”, she cannot stand
My God is beaten and broken and blamed and raped and left with the shame
My God is crying feeling no body cares
breathing bones at the foot of the stairs
My God has beautiful eyes and opening hands
a child seeking asylum; inside this pram
and my God has a soft voice Jambo, Salam
tells me of journeys from homelands
I pray to relate knowing I can’t
for our difference of fates we’re apart
My God is everything though urged me to see,
that love is born in-between
there in the listening and there in air that we breathe