Do not forgive me – a prayer from your gay children

40% of homeless youth are LGBTQ. The #1 reason they're on the street is family rejection.

40% of homeless youth are LGBTQ. The #1 reason they’re on the street is family rejection.

Sometimes it’s those short prayers that – when you hear them from others – bring you hardest to your knees.


Why are we here, this day, this minute? Why are we called to do the things that we are supposed to do, yet never quite get around to doing? What words can we say back to admit our human failings and find our way to the correct path?


Hey you, God:

Don’t forgive me for being gay, Lord,
just love me for who and for what I am.

I already know that you do,
but some of your followers
still see fit to hate me.

Your child.

gay days at disney + mr and mr + married gay men gay youth with long hair and t-shirts - kissing in the woods gay youth smiling and hugging gay youth holding fingers chanukah gay youth - he is mine - I am his gay teens kiss while their friends freak out and scream gay teens being hanged in Iran gay teen - suicide was an option many times gay men on a rocky mountain trail - kissing gay men + holding hands in the ocean + watching fireworksgay youth kiss in the bathroom greyscale

Keep the faith!
– Amen




Apache Blessing

An Apache Blessing

May the sun
bring you new energy by day.

May the moon
softly restore you by night.

May the rain
wash away your worries.

May the breeze
blow new strength
into your being.

May you walk
gently through the world
and know its beauty
all the days of your life.


Thanks to Nana E. Morelli, the Morelli clan, and especially to all of Team Kemo.

Keep the faith!





Something I forgot to tell you, mostly because I was too upset.

This doesn’t go for historical or “national” heroes like Sojourner Truth or Frederick Douglass. I’m talking about the people who are (physically) close to you, in your life. I gained a very sad (at the time) perspective in the last few weeks when one of those close to home personal heroes of mine lost that mantle of  greatness for me, even to the point that they had to go away from me and my good wishes for them.

I was upset (very upset!) for a couple of days until I remembered something that one of our Mercedes selling friends said to Bill when we lost the Euro Delivery car to a hit-and-run driver. He was in tears as he talked about that wonderful car and what it had meant to us.

She told him not to get so emotionally attached to the car. At the end of the day – it’s a car, and you have it because it has a job to do.

It made a great deal of sense to me in these following weeks as I realized that the people in our lives that we think are heroic are at the same time, human, with all the human foibles that come along with it .At the end of our day – they are people … humans … “Guys.”

I love having people like that in my life: they help me to get up in the morning, to write another 500 words, to appreciate every day for the brilliance it is. They inspire me in ways I never imagined and in ways that they are not even aware.

If they stop being so great in my eyes, it’s ok to lose that feeling of their greatness, and not weep for the loss. And if it is so bad that they need to go their own way without me on their radar or them on mine, then that’s ok.

I don’t need to feel any loss that they are gone.

Why? Because there is always a long line of heroes waiting to get into our lives, and we’ve just not found them yet. I embrace the great people in my life, and hold on to them for as long as I can. And I mostly don’t tell them about their status with me. It doesn’t matter in the long run. They are just living the life that they have been called to do.Humans. “Guys.”

Keep the faith!

 – Amen



a poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”