This is my gay poem
My poem about pride
And about finally coming out to my parents after 23 years
But you know some news falls on cotton-filled ears
Never bothering to ask where they got the cotton from.
And I haven’t seen my father since then
And I am holding on to the few memories where I was happy at home
Where I didn’t want to leave
Where I didn’t want to leave
Where I didn’t want to die
I was still a child the first time they said they hate gay people
I was 11 when I first remember thinking they were right.
And every year after I hid deeper and deeper until I was drowning
Until my lungs were screaming out for air
And I never looked back
Or at least I could never go back
But sometimes I miss a cute scarf or hat I left in that closet and have to convince myself I am better off without them
No matter how safe they made me feel
Or how warm the fabric
But I shattered that closet
It doesn’t exist
I threw a brick through its doors
And Martha P. Johnson did it first
And we will continue to throw bricks
Until they finally stop killing us
Until we stop counting hate crimes like sheep
Just to fall back asleep
I want to know that Matthew Shepard and so many others didn’t die for nothing
That we won’t give up fighting
And there is an inferno on the tip of my tongue that burns even the darkest poems
And I will write and I will scream
And I will read poem after poem after poem or however long it takes for the world to see that Black Lives Matter
That trans lives matter
And that every queer child is worthy of love and acceptance,
or at least the promise that they won’t be hunted for who they love.
And it’s not fair that the religion of love spreads so much hate
And it’s not fair that those concerned for the children would rather them die than be gay.
And it’s not fair for your parent to be your first real bully
But more often than not that’s the reality for men like me
And I think fathers are afraid that to love another man
Means allowing another man to treat you the way they treat women
As if somehow being gay means I will be less of a man
That I won’t have the privileges of a man
But I am still just a man
Whatever that really means
And a man never hits a woman
That I know for sure
But a man doesn’t hit his boyfriend either
Love isn’t a game of who wins first
It is an agreement to love at the same time
Through all the key changes and tempo shifts.
Not that my parents taught me much about love
Just to know when to let go of it
And my parents were the first people I ever loved but also the first I thought would kill me.
And children will listen
When you say fags like me should be imprisoned for existing
Some words can never be forgotten
And some emotions can only be described as sad
Though sad isn’t a big enough word to cover it.
And gay is synonymous with happy
Which is so ironic
But also makes so much sense
Like how a rainbow is a sign from god
To never flood us again
To never massacre his people again
And we are a reminder of that promise
That god is love
And we are love
And love is so gay
And we love so deeply
Because you have to love this much
This helplessly and hopefully
To risk this much in pursuit of it.
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