New years are meant for starting over
Beginning clean and new
Unless you’re of the queer persuasion
And your government’s against you
Then blossoming becomes a struggle
As you strain simply to bloom,
Crushed under heels of persecution
Swept under rug by bigoted broom
The seeds we sow in ‘25
Require roots down deep, robust
If we’re to thrive and survive,
Under a dictator we can’t trust
To blossom sounds lovely indeed
But queer friends we must burst,
Break barriers and far exceed
Hoping for best, planning for worst

89%

If I Warned Me
If I warn of heartbreak
What risks will I take?
If I warn of vulnerability,
I’ll then conceal what others see.
If I warn of uncertainty,
Will I, too timid, ever be?
I’ll choose to live in mystery
Betwixt the fiery sparks that flee
In the rhythm of life’s spontaneity
Sans warnings from the likes of me

100%

Your perky aroma pops me out of bed
Preventing stabby headaches in my head

I get to work each day on time
Before the late bell dares to chime

And with your spunky caffeine kick
I rarely, if ever, call in sick

On days my nerves are worn and frail
You’re there to comfort without fail

Hot, roasted beans all warm and toasty
Reminding me I love you the mosty

Dear Fear,

You creep in shadows, whispering low, a voice warning me not to show the love I hold, the truth I bear, instead to seek healing in God’s prayer.

You paint the world in black and white, warning me to hide and not to fight. You say the way I love’s not right. That I’m standing in darkness instead of light.

But Fear, I see your twisted game; you thrive on silence and grow from shame. You feed on doubt and plant despair, yet I refuse to live there.

For love is love, and I will be free. No hate can steal my soul from me. I won’t shrink back or hide in disguise. Rather, I’ll meet the world with open eyes.

So go ahead, lurk and loom, for I’ll fill the dark with light and I’ll bloom. I will face your storm with strength and a love so fiercely bold and true that not even you can break through.

Goodbye, Fear, you’ve lost today. I choose to love. I choose to stay.

Sincerely,

Me.
Style Score: 100

In the year of nineteen-twenty-four
My grandma Lorraine was born
Forty-seven years more
I entered the world one morn

My mom being close to her mother
Chose my name in honor of their bond
I cherish and would choose no other
For of my name, I’m especially fond

In January of two-thousand-nine
When grandma exhaled her last breath
I held her tender hand in mine
Unwilling to accept her death

My namesake dying left a hole
A painful space I longed to fill
I set for myself a goal
Live resiliently as she instilled

Grandma’s lifetime was filled with sorrow
Early losing both parents and brother
She continued to trust in tomorrow
With a tenacity and humor like no other

She suffered injuries, illness, trauma
Several surgeries left her hobbled and sore
But she cooked, and she cleaned, and she dealt with our drama
Assuring us she desired nothing more

In my stiving to be a woman like she
I often struggle to find the resolve
Then I dig deep inside for her inside me
Remembering her profound strength was her love

You wish to be small
Slight and petite
Not round like a ball
Atop two chubby feet

You want to fit in
With those in your school
To be popular, thin
Not solely uncool

Why can’t you be skinny
Like others your grade
Dress in skirts mini-
Not big and homemade

But hold it, I say
To big little you
Soon comes the day
Adolescence is through

At age twenty-nine
With determination and grit
I promise you’re fine
Keep at it, don’t quit

Realizing long last
Being strong is what’s best
Leaving diets in the past
You pass the qualifying test

Now, a personal trainer
Group fitness leader
Sometimes entertainer
Always positivity feeder

The joy you’ll discover
In this health career choice
Will help your recover
And find your own voice

So, please don’t you fear
Dear big, little you
Your future is near
Your dream will come true

I find my peace in pieces
A little here and there
Chaos never ceases
Peace is often rare

But,
I feel it in raindrops
Dry, falling leaves
Carefree belly flops
A humorous sneeze

In,
Pine needle covered trails
A brilliant sunrise
Stylish manicured nails
Crisp sweet potato fries

At,
Book clubs with friends
Pride parades in June
Multicolored pens
Naps in the afternoon

I find my peace in pieces
Wherever there is spare
Gather then release it
Peace is meant to share

I pulled on a pair of runners, tied up the laces tight
Lined up behind the racers, hoping to keep out of sight
Two minutes in, I struggled for breath, fearing I would meet my death
I pushed forward despite my pain, dodging blowing northwest rain
With every puddle I side-stepped, I grew stronger, more confident
For the moment I was simply me, not a husband’s wife nor a babe’s mommy
My body moved freely in open space, unconfined by time or place
And with that first race, on that day one, I found I absolutely love to run
This revelation did change the way I lived my life both then and today

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie
I’ll tell you a story. Four years ago, I sat at the end of my chair at seven at night. I was tired, no exhausted, desperate, fearful, and as hopeless as I have ever felt in this false world, I built around me and played a make-believe character in, and I knew. I don’t know how I hadn’t known before. Maybe I had. Maybe I had always known. But right then I knew for sure.

It was a lie.

It was clearer to me in that moment than it had ever been before. I knew it without a doubt in my mind. I knew it and nothing and no one could ever change my mind.

It was a lie.

I did all the things you should do in that situation. I bent my head and covered my face and prayed. I prayed and I prayed and then I prayed some more. Tears streamed down my face, dripping on my shoes. The harder I prayed the more I knew.

It was a lie.

I had come to this place, this holy sanctuary three years earlier, searching, pleading for healing. I’d spent twenty-seven months on my knees in earnest prayerful repentance. I’d sat in circles surrounded on both sides by sexual addicts, pedophiles, and the sexually broken searching for healing. I’d listened for the voice of God to speak to me and fix my brokenness. To make me whole, make me straight. I’d sung songs, read verses, prayed endless prayers and nothing. But I tell you that night as my tears ran off the sides of my shoes and dripped to the floor, I knew.

It was a lie.

There was no amount of prayer or repentance that could make me straight. There was no sickness to heal in me. There was no sin to forgive. I was a lesbian not a sexual deviant, a lesbian. Everything they were telling me was false.

It was a lie.

Today I know as I did that night that I am whole just as I am. I’m not broken. I’ve heard a great deal about reparative therapy and trust me when I say it doesn’t work. Whatever else you read, whatever else you hear, remember this, it is not true. You cannot fix a homosexual and make them straight.

Don’t Give Up, It’s a Lie!

Perfectly Equal

Once upon a perfect day
All were equal in every way

Not color nor gender
Did prevent the render

Of kindness and care
Bestowed on everyone everywhere

In fact, all differences at hand
We celebrated in fashion most grand

And an impenetrable sphere
Protecting both straight and queer

And those dark skinned and light
Surrounded our earth, preventing a blight

Which threatened evil and strife
Upon this our most perfect life

For hate may have been the prequel
But equal would be the sequel

On this most perfect day
Conjured and imagined my way

My dear Lorinda, here’s to you
Some words of praise I feel you’re due

Too often quick to criticize
Much less likely to emphasize

The abundance of kindness, love, and grace
You thoughtfully grant those in your space

And opposite your gentle side
You’re a lioness who protects her pride

With fearless strength and fortitude
You don’t back down from any feud

I’m proud of the human you strive to be
And know you’ll continue to work on me

So, just like mom oft says to you
I love you so, Lorindy-Lou

2023

So much happened to me
In this year of twenty, twenty-three.
I got new hips for which to run
Each morning, each day, rain, or sun.
An essay of mine was published in a book.
I’m still quite sure I don’t like to cook.
My father’s progressed illness made me see
How unbelievably fragile this life can be.
Miss Mollie my sweet yorkie-poo
Turned six, in dog years, forty-two.
I ran in many races at varying paces.
And made friends with people from faraway places.
But the absolute best part of twenty, twenty-three
Was celebrating ten years with my wife, Sandy.

Parade participants dance and gyrate.
Snaking down the glittery rainbow street.
While drag queen’s sashay perfectly straight
Atop outrageously high heels, an incredible feat.

My eyes dart wildly from side to side.
Taking in ample amounts of bare skin
Of people unconcerned with a need to hide.
Of strangers marching closer than kin.

I breathe in the thickly weed scented air.
Feel the heat from the scorching asphalt.
I toss back my head without a care.
Unafraid of danger or assault.

On this particular day
There’s no hate for loving my own gender.
Surrounded by all the gay,
Love reigns in abundant splendor.

Five million gather to say thank you
For fifty years of Stonewall’s disquiet.
To honor and attest that which we hold true.
And to remember the first pride was a riot.