Poems to Heal from Queer Trauma

Let this poetry speak to your soul and give you hope that no matter where you are in the process of accepting yourself you can overcome any adversity and that you will always deserve love.

After coming out and leaving behind a terrible past of five years in electroshock, ex-gay therapy, I found a cathartic release in writing. I wrote my way through any time I had flashbacks of my traumatic experiences with the homophobia we know comes with religion.

A few years into my writing journey I had processed the deepest of my pain, from my rage at the bible college who tortured me and then kicked me out and abandoned me, to the sorrow and deep hatred I had for not being good enough. The writing that I poured out saved me.
I compiled my writing into a collection of poetry, Dear God I’m a Faggot (2019), and for every copy sold, I have donated 1$ to The Trevor Project, the 24/7 suicide lifeline for (LGBTQ) young people.

My goal has been to write about our shared experience as queer people so that others can see that there is hope to heal, move forward, and build a healthy, happy life.

Let this poetry speak to your soul and give you hope that no matter where you are in the process of accepting yourself you can overcome any adversity and that you will always deserve love.


On Faith

Previously published in Dear God I’m a Faggot

Have you ever been confused about where life is taking us?
(Assuming we are in this together.)

I had a dream I met with a really great pastor.
She was more concerned with my spiritual and emotional
than with my theological knowledge.

But I have always struggled to have a place at Christ’s table.
Most churches turn us away.
Because our marriage bed is sinful,
Because my commitment to him is apostasy,
Because I chose to say no to hating who I am.

A guitar plays slowly in the background, squeaking and sliding
past all my self hatred.

I want my heart to be as soft and delicate as the dahlias on the

Lord Jesus make us brave.

I Have a Dream

Previously published in Deep Overstock Issue 5: Dreams

The other night I had a visceral dream.


My banner was ten feet tall.

Enshrined upon it was God Loves Everyone.

Rainbows dropped from it,

as I stood blocking evil.

For you see
Behind me

Was a banner reading: Fags Burn In Hell.

The hatred spewed from the banner and angry bigot holding it.

The name calling and void-of-love burned my ears.

I endured through the whole parade.
Teaching others acceptance and love.
A queer nocturnal heart cry.

I have a dream!
(Tell them about the dream Tim!)

I have a dream,

That one day,

The world will have equity and acceptance,

for all my queer family.

A world so full of love there is no space for homophobia.

I still have that dream.

On Sanctuary

Previously published in Dear God I’m a Faggot

The faith that I puff up,

with my steps through the door.

The hope that (so often) dwindles,

as my queer soul prepares for judgement.

Gay heart in the house of God.

My feet collect all the broken glass on the city streets outside.

And I rest my broken bones,

in the light of your countenance,

and grace.

Restore, and make me anew,

that I might love,

and accept myself,

as you have done

for me.


Two Cowboys Holding Hands
Previously published in Deep Overstock Issue 6: Westerns

Many had complained to the Sheriff
But those two were still mocking this whole rodeo.

It was a strong gesture, an impassioned move.
They were even rumored to say they loved one another.

Many in the community just said they needed wives.
But they just kept going “home” together to the same farm every night.

Once, in the middle of the hottest summer on record,

a few of the guys from the stockyards

drank heavily at the tavern and tried to burn down their barn.

But this was the day the town chose hope, kindness, and love.

For you see, the community remembered all the things those two cowboys

had done for them. Once they herded up a whole head of dairy cows that had escaped the double O ranch. Another time they had fixed a two mile fence that had been damaged during a late spring tornado right in the middle of town.

These were good cowboys, and this town knew the difference between a hero, and a villain.

The cowboys spent all winter fixing their barn together.
And marrying in it in front of the whole town that spring.

The arsonists were charged and spent life behind bars.

Because no one harasses a good cowboy, or a couple of them.

On Being Queer
Previously published in Dear God I’m a Faggot

Dear Queer Christian,

You are mountains tall,

and brave.

You are rivers and valleys deep,

And lovable.

You sit inside a chasm that looks into one land,

and yet peeks into another.

We rally at dawn against the self righteous,


and nobly.

Warm dawn,

Dewdrop on grass-blade,

and mist from the river,

Under our footsteps.

God has built his throne upon us,

The Church,

God’s beloved.

God’s children.

We were beautifully and wonderfully made,
And God’s works are awe inspiring,

We do

Know this



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