By CJ Clark
![Sermon on Them
18Give us this day our Morning Glory, the body of the blasphemer, and the blood of the serpent. [2]Do not be afraid, child of Sodom. If mercy and grace abounds what weapon forged against could stop you from laying with man as man and praying your salvation last? [3]On broken, bruised, and battered knees look into the faces of God. Gender and race has no place. [4]His blazing eyes remind you of your father. [5]Her blazing eyes remind you of your identity. [6]Their blazing eyes remind you of your shame.
Psalm to be read at a funeral.
[7]Do you hear my beaten vocal chords scream for you outside your Zion gates, O God? Do my pleas reach your bloated head atop your marble throne? [8]I rejoice within the fiery lakes, I call them the coolest pools just to spite you. [9]And yet, you still do not see me. You still do not hear me, God. You still do not save me, God. [10]You sliced my baby in half with Solomon’s sword. I got the head and those who wanted to know the tender secrets of my child got the legs. [11]Why is eternity promised to the white man spewing daggers from his pulpit and not to me or my family? [12]I rebuke you! 70 times 7 rebukes for a broken identity. 70 times 7 rebukes for a numb heart. 70 times 7 rebukes for a sevenfold spirit.
Testimony of the Forgotten
[13] My rider is Faithful and True, he arrives to my quarters on his white horse. [14]He calls me beloved when the red moon rises, when the Ophanim have closed their eyes. And it’s sweet relief from those thousands of pupils glaring at me, telling me and my rider that I am not to be trusted, loved, or respected. [15]But still he comes to me, wraps me in his arms, and tells me I am his. [16]And when the burlap-sack covered sun rises, he tosses me back into those fiery lakes. [17]I do not tell him this is exactly what I want, to be Satan’s sloppy seconds. [18]The mark of the beast wears me.
[19]I watch from the shallow end as the world turns to flames turns to war. [20]I watch as the water turns to blood turns to wine. The finest wine, my only drink of choice. I spend these final days drunk off my lover’s suffering. [21]He still comes to me at night. [22]I kiss my lover’s crucified hands, pull off his blood stained robes, and take that double edged sword out of his mouth. [23]I leave the many crowns on. [24]We spend these nights as one soul, a joyous celebration of what is right and just. [25]Let my body sing praises. Let my redemption be found.
Forever and ever.
Amen.](https://qandaqueerzine.files.wordpress.com/2022/06/a-sermon.png?w=625)
CJ Clark is a senior at the University of Central Arkansas majoring in Creative Writing. They spend their days writing, working, and writing. Their pieces are usually very queer to reflect themselves as a person. They go by they/them/theirs pronouns even though they still have not figured out their gender fully. When they’re not spiraling, they’re spitting out pieces. They write by the words of their poetry professor, Prof. Sandy Longhorn, that “poetry is an explosion of words”. They sleep at night knowing there will always be more to write tomorrow.
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