Humanity: Raw & Unfiltered
I’ll never know if my mother thought that she might have had a cross dressing pre-teen son, or maybe she just thought that I was just a theatrical kid. After a quick costume change out of my denim bugle boys and into her brazier and favorite silver and turquoise jewelry, I was the most fearless little girl on the North Side of the Bronx, and that helped keep me alive.
There is a number, a precise hour, minute, second between the sun’s revolving door and the moon’s sparkly shine when the world grows quiet and lavender fields weep violet.
Decades ago, when I was in elementary school, I did have a few genuine friends. However, the so-called cool kids swiftly kicked us to the bottom of the totem pole and successfully labeled us as faggots to the entire school. When I moved to Florida in 1979, my world did improve. However, because of my grade-school trauma, it wasn’t easy to make real friends. In High School, I was acquainted with dozens of kids from every social group, but I didn’t have the phone number of one friend to rely upon if my car broke down.
I can be like a boat passing by and flowing onward or get mired in it trying to make it what it is not, and whirl around and around wandering in an endless thought process of, “If only.” I then get stuck on the rinse and repeat cycle, living reactively all the time, falling blindly into the holes of my history, until I give up altogether and get stuck on the riverbank of hopeless despair. OR, I can see. Recognize. Steer clear. Float over. Dance through. On, into the vast river of life. Mistaking the whirlpool for the river, I am doomed. And yet the only way out is to realize that the whirlpool and the river are made of the same substance, dancing. I am whole.
I couldn’t sleep anyway
There was nothing else to do with my rage and sorrow
no one believed me – everyone hid in the shadows of shame
I was a broken exile machine piled
exiled in the house I grew up in
so I ran
“What I’m saying is, you could drop dead at any moment.” Blunt, direct and impatient, my father’s cardiologist meant what he said. Didn’t even flinch. “So what you are saying is, my father’s heart has weakened since the last MRI six months ago?” “Yes. One side is overcompensating for the Read more
I hear the constant ticking of the clock. My reality is at a standstill. When will the results
come back from the lab? Why is it taking so long?
Verse gleaming bright, imbued with might