Jerome Stueart
Craft him from Sunday School stories,
Daniel and those stoic lions, men walking in fire,
stormy Elijah, placid Elisha, prophets intimately bound
together. Show him a God
who parts seas, walks beside his people a tornado of flame,
doles out miracles, and makes donkeys talk and angels
rescue, and bones live. Show him giants, and Ezekiel’s wheel-
like spaceship, Elijah’s fiery chariot
in the sky. Tell him of Jonathan and David’s love,
the eunuch’s favor for Daniel, the Roman Centurion and his
boy. But if you don’t tell him they were queer, he will queer
the stories anyway from
what he doesn’t see. Read him C.S. Lewis’ talking lion,
brave children voyaging across seas and Narnia; those satyrs
and centaurs will be his. You tell him stories and myths,
and he will do the magic himself
to make those bones live. They will rainbow-shield his faith from the wrath
of your Church. When they throw stones, a hundred storied lions
will surround him, saying “I am here.” When your waves threaten to capsize
his spirit, he will remember a friendly whale
of a way out. And he will dive deep, and imagine a world where queer
heroes save the people, like they did in the Bible. But he’ll have to hide
them in satyrs, starships, and lions like Lewis did, because you can’t
bear the truths of the Divine
outside of Story. Oh, he will tell you of miracles you can perform,
of fiery chariots you can pilot, of love you can have. He will save you,
with the Spirit you unleashed in him—and—if you’re truly blessed,
he will walk beside you, a pillar of fire
animating your very bones.
(originally published in Rock & Sling, June 2018)
Bear Witness