Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry, homosexual, lgbt, queer



You said to me what of God, what does that feel like?
Is it He or She? I respond, does it matter?
I say a simple prayer each morning and each night
the words are crudely penned, the thought is
Powerful. Though I am powerless over many things,
My destiny, what other’s do, how this planet spins, in humility
Turn my strength to God, whatever it might be for
Solace, comfort, resting in the arms of its strength,
Guided by that Will all knowing, it is greater than mine.
Man has made a mockery of God, demanding other see,
There is but one God answering to a million names.
Man created graven images, temples with spires
reaching to the clouds, religions and tomes of great
Wisdom, all obfuscating that which is simple.
Simply an energy making the galaxies spin in their orbs.
I have been a nay sayer from early years, decrying
That God is not, that the possibility is heinous and
Ridiculous in concept. As I approach this older time
Upon my chosen path, I recall my father’s words that
In declining years, one finds peace in knowing that God
Watches, guides, and at the end releases.


2 thoughts on “Fall

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