Barely Philosophical Proposition

Dear God, I’m Gay. Do you still love me? They thought they’d ask
An idea struck during simple prayer, or a sermon preached but nigh forgotten,
One of the admired men, the widely acknowledged examples of faith embodied,
Must have thought it up some midweek day, and thought it out, and talked it out
And written his words and pondered his thoughts. I’ll bet he practiced every day
From when the last well-intentioned word shone inky black on righteously recycled white
To the end-week morning he awoke with shiny thoughts of Jesus tears streaming
Through his body like sorrow runs in wetness down denied lovers’ cheeks. He looked
At his humbly proud face, virtuously smiling with politicians’ prowess, directly in the
Self-imposed ignorance-filled eyes, and practiced his damning, hurtful words
One last time before he presented his fanatically supported, weakly founded barely
Philosophical proposition to his partially proud, partially desperate, partially confused
Pack of parishioners: Dear God, the projector read, I’m Gay. No one gasps here; they read
Last weeks informational pamphlet more thoroughly than they understood this weeks’
Motivational Message Memory Verse. Do You still love me? Hmm, some of them
Would think to themselves, if they hadn’t quieted their inner sinful voice to let in the
Deafening, fleeting, feeble voice of a newly impersonal, widely misunderstood God,
I wonder if He does.