Fearfully and wonderfully made am I?


I love my mate Andy. However when I arrive at his poetry night and tell him I do not do open mic and still he insists that I plug my book, which is launching in the UK the following day. I cringe. 

How do I do this and not look like a knob? This has been my overarching question the past 6 months or so. So as other poets take their spot I put some words on my phone in an attempt to convey the spirit of what I have to say in the printed thing that others call a book. 

Here is what I shared:

Fearfully and wonderfully made they say 
The evangelical crew have their way 
And year after year they say 
Fearfully and wonderfully made they say 
As I grow they say they know that I am loved and I am known and I am good and I am whole. I am welcome and I am one of them. Eternally, forever, I am part of their clan. 
Fearfully and wonderfully made they say 
Born to thrive, not merely to survive. 
To not only soar but also to roar for I have a voice, a prophetic call. 

Fearfully and wonderfully made they say 
Yet in the darkness of the night the image on my screen flickers bright, the form and flesh, the heaving of the breast, 
oh it is quite a sight.
Oh and her, in her, I soar and yet they stifle my roar as I muffle into the pillow the delight she stirs in me. For fearfully and wonderfully made they say so all this simply stirs up more fright. Confused and searching. Wondering and in need of nurturing. Who even am I repeatedly I cry. 
Fearfully and wonderfully made they say.
No I am Queerfully and wonderfully made I say.

Then the deafening silence comes, and quickly they start to walk away whilst queerfully and wonderfully made I still stay. 
But they stay silent and yet their silence still speaks. 
As little by little my grace walks away. 
Now they take their encouraging talk all away, for I am not fearfully and wonderfully made it seems now today. 
And it cuts, and I cut and no longer am I made in his image they say. Tainted not sainted, sinner not winner, no one hosts me for the alpha course dinner
And it cuts and I cut and no longer am I made in his image they say. 

But I am still here, so perhaps then ... am I just queer?

Spark of the Divine extinguished, membership of their club reluctantly relinquished. 
No longer held. 
Unloved and lonely ...
which cuts and I cut but seriously though there is nothing else left to say. 
So I pray and I pray and yet it has simply not gone away. 



And then out of the void a strong voice speaks and inside my heart restarts to beat. 
Ba bum. Ba bum. Ba bum. 
Yes that’s it the one who formed and knows me by name, speaks of new life and no longer of shame. 
See I am held & I am known, brought with a price so no longer on loan. For the evangelicals will not have their way in the cold light of day, together we have prayed and thank the Lord, it ain’t going away. 
So beautifully and queerfully and wonderfully made together, we now say. 
Loudly and proudly. 
The one from the beginning, the same one at the start. 
They know all the shit and the cry’s of my heart. 
For I am no longer forgotten, I am eternally begotten. 

And I will survive. 
Heck for now in their new image I know I can thrive. 
Grow, stand tall, ride on their wings and not be held back old things. For the evangelicals will not get their way, their script is redundant, heavily ill equipped. 
They can no longer cut, so I no longer cut and frankly that’s enough because well... that was flipping shit. 
For now I can answer the prophetic call,
even more than I thought possible than before. 
Yes, I am queerfully and wonderfully made. 
Divinely curated. 
Heavenly created. 
And all by the master maker, the ultimate star baker and together we are queerfully and wonderfully made and that is really bloody good. 

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