I couldn't love you because of my fear.
Everything I ever learned growing up taught me
that I couldn't love the children of other Gods.
Other gods were wrong &
And so I feared you, even as my heart accepted you.
And then I lost you in my fear: drowned
under prejudice and preconception,
lit the match &
I didn't run far enough &
like Lot's wife; I turned to look, &
there you were,
it was my fault.
& I'm sorry.
& I know I can't make it better by saying it.
But I want to say to say it, 'cause it makes me human again &
you not burning &
me not turned to salt.