In the Sanctuary of Ourselves

In the Sanctuary of Ourselves By John-Marx 

•  Here, in the quiet spaces between heartbeats, we find a sanctuary, not built of stone and stained glass, but of flesh and spirit, of bodies that refuse to be erased.
•  We are the gospel they tried to silence, the verses rewritten in love's true tongue, a sacred text of survival, of daring to exist in a world that tells us we should not.
•  In the beginning, they said, “Let there be light,” and we are that light, radiant and unapologetic, shining through the cracks of their broken doctrines. 
•  They called us sin, but we know better— we are the breath of the divine, exhaled in colors they can't comprehend, in hues that dance beyond their narrow spectrum. 
•  This love we carry, this queerness we embody, is not a cross to bear, but a crown, a testament to the God who made us in their image, and called it good. 
•  In every embrace, every kiss shared in defiance, we rewrite the scripture of our lives, each touch a prayer, each moment of joy a hymn, proclaiming liberation in the language of our bodies. 
•  Here, we are holy, not in spite of, but because of the ways we love, the ways we live beyond their binaries, beyond their walls. 
•  We gather at the altar of each other, hands intertwined, lifting each other up, and in this communion, we taste the divine, sweet as the freedom we fight for every day. 
•  This is our church, our sacred ground, where we bless the outcast, the different, the queer, and call them beloved, because here, in the sanctuary of ourselves, we are nothing less than divine.