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