If I cannot find you in a church, may I find you in a rose.
When you feel like a loud, pushy straight-white-man's dream, may I feel you in the queer and quiet.
You are the love that surprises and multiplies
and grows more lushly in the wilderness and in our complicated spaces - our ruins.
May the scent of your love rise to me and remind me of my eternal divinity
without rules or religions.
May you be nameless and formless if that serves.
You would be happy
to simply be known
for having joined with breath itself.
Image Description: Photo of a pink rose opening surrounded by green leaves