her name is Holly.

my stomach can't stop churning over the thought
the person i am in love with is an inconvenience to
my mother.
my father.
my brother.
safe so long as she remains in my life, not theirs
so long as she remains incognito instead of perceptible
so long as she remains a topic of dinner conversation rather than a partaker in it
so long as she remains "partner" rather than Holly

i wonder if someday
these church aisles will be filled with the blood and tears of martyrs
who couldn't take another day of being forced to kneel, head buried in hands,
before an altar of confession
when they so desparately wanted to stand and believe
grace still exists.

and so, WORLD:
the woman i'm with is not
partner.
the woman i'm with is
Holly.
she started reading a book on how to end poverty but couldn't finish it
because she had to go help end it
she couldn't just contemplate it academically
without engaging the problem with her heart
she likes to recycle. a lot.
i mean green POWER.
she is probingly intelligent, honest, and caring
she is also sometimes weak and powerless
but, in all of this, in both her strength and weakness,
she stands and learns and always returns to grace
and so i will not be ashamed of who i am with.

her name is Holly
and someday
i hope these tears over the way you've treated her
will not fall in vain.