My mom took a trip to Mexico
And stopped by a church to attend mass.
It was quaint, small and brightly colored,
So she went inside.
(She is Catholic and I am not.)
She knows Spanish, is practically fluent in it.
She knew, sitting in her pew, what the priest was saying
About those goddamn homosexuals
And their sin,
And how even the flames of hell
Were too good for them.
That there would be no tolerance from The Heavenly Father
Of their kind.
I had just come out to my mom less than a month before
I like girls."
My hands had been shaking and my throat was tight,
Like my heart was stuck in it.
For a moment I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball
And simply fade away.
But mom smiled, pulled me into a hug, and said it was okay
And I knew it was.
Yet even if I hadn't confessed
Even if I weren't able to gather the strength,
I know she still would have walked out
Left behind those judgmental words,
Spewing from that judgmental man's lips.
It makes me wonder a