We Are Blessed
after Lydia Havens
This poem is for you, dear puckered flesh
of my hardened nipples. You will offend
the followers of a God who has shunned your beliefs,
like the way you think this woman’s teeth,
raking gently across your steepled skin,
would be holy.
This is also for you, beloved palms, and the way you testify
to how she felt like a praise dance
swaying in the sanctuary of your open.
And for you, eager eyes, hoping that she too
would see how we are beautiful pressed
together like this, aren’t we
a stained glass masterpiece coloured
with our mingling salt?
We, a consecrated art.
This poem is especially for the offended
that worship a lord who finds our touch
sick. Do not confuse
He Who Would Dare Attempt To Heal Us
(already well and not in need of cure)
as the same these bodies praise.
We lay tangled among the pews
of this sacred moment and find
that we are still blessed—for that, amen.
For the Holy Ghost gift of her hips, amen.
And for the congregation of our bodies,
let the church say
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, amen.
By Talicha Johnson
Talicha Johnson is an American poet and an aspiring novelist. She was a member of Charlotte’s Respect Da Mic Slam team in 2010, and has competed on a national level at both the Women of the World Poetry Slam and the Individual World Poetry Slam. Her work has appeared in Germ Magazine, The Four Quarters Magazine, The Legendary and Boston Poetry Magazine.