Agape Gratia
Oh, Rat—
You who gnaw in the dark,
You who carry the weight of our shadows,
The unlovable, the deformed,
The parts of us we flush and forget—
Hear us now.
We have called you foul.
We have named you sin.
We have tried to drown you in the sewer of our shame,
But you persist.
You endure.
You are the truth we cannot escape.
So today, we do not banish you.
We do not ignore you.
We pull you up by the jowls,
Squealing, squirming, alive—
And we hold you.
We look at you.
We do not turn away.
And then—
Oh, Rat, blessed Rat—
We do the unthinkable:
We bless you.
We kiss you.
Not because you are beautiful,
But because you are ours.
Because you are the proof of our humanity—
The part that hungers,
The part that fears,
The part that knows the cemetery is real.
You are the guardian of our truth.
You are the keeper of our wholeness.
And so we ask you:
Stay.
Gnaw.
Remind us.
For without you, we are half.
Without you, we are lies.
Without you, we are nothing but the light—
And the light is useless without the dark to define it.
So here is our plea:
Do not hide.
Do not soften.
Do not apologize.
Be our rat.
Be our shadow.
Be our truth.
And we will bless you.
We will kiss you.
We will carry you with us—
Into the cemetery,
Into the light,
Into the sacred work of living.
For you are not our enemy.
You are our kin.
And we will love you,
Rat and All.