Back before Rainbows were known to exist other than in the light of day…after a fresh and linen covered spring rain, I had thought something amiss.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like the God I had been shown. It had been more of a fear based and obscure presence that never released its grip on me.
Hatred, hangings, crosses to bare and/or bear and sins over running my beer mug! How distant the feelings I had been? No further away than the ache within my heart.
‘Was I bad? Had there been a mistake? Will this strange and unusual creature of habit…Me, change her ever-present freak stripes?’
Did I know gay? Brevity, maybe? Men with odd tastes for polyester and spangles. Or, perhaps, the ‘gay’ twenties where the roar came from the pits of rooms locked behind store fronts with no names.
Somewhere between the playing out of roles: Who gets to be Sabrina and who gets to be Farrah/Jill? Somehow linked from one end of the Good News Bible and my passion for watering down my ache. Between the sheets and not discrete attempts at playing ‘straight’…it all came out wrong like a bad love song.
I cried, of course, I shed tears…I do to this day.
How is it my parent’s child cannot be straight? What a disappointment, once again, in the normal kids rule class?
It is a shame my grandfather disowned me with words. It is an abomination to mankind and a sore on the ass of the world, he would have most likely whispered loudly to his uniformed friends.
The train that took me so many times before into a land of semi comfort and acceptance left South station and never looked for me again.
How difficult it must be not to know where to begin your history…when your past has been clouded by bias and poor judgement by the powers that be.
In the end, I sat a six-pack down on an oak table in the heart of This Land is Your Land, New Hampshire. I shook and wondered what will become of me? I waited until she arrived. She held my first hand in life and most likely, I will hold her hand as she departs for greener pastures.
‘I have something you need to know…I can’t hide it anymore. It’s just how it is!’
No response from her or a language of body movements would have helped. Yet, those too seemed to have left the room.
‘I am GAY! I’ve tried to not be…but it just ain’t working.’
These were the rhetorical words that still carry the burden of my nonconformist ways today. An ark in which I feel safe enough to unveil even the darkest of truths.
“Oh, is that it? I was waiting for you to figure that out! As long as you’re happy!”
We never really understand the understanding statements we make until the clouds lift and we see the light. My mother, bless her sainted heart, most likely felt she didn’t say enough.
My mother had said with few words what the world should be learning in school everyday:
…as long as you’re happy…
Really isn’t that all that matters when it comes to matters of the heart?
Well if you want to sing out sing out. And if you want to be free be free. ‘Cause there’s a million things to be. You know that there are. And if you want to live high live high. And if you want to live low live low. ‘Cause there’s a million ways to go. You know that there are.
You can do what you want. The opportunity’s on. And if you find a new way
you can do it today. You can make it all true. And you can make it undo you see. Ah it’s easy. Ah you only need to know.
Well if you want to say yes say yes. And if you want to say no say no. Cause there’s a million ways to go. You know that there are. And if you want to be me be me. And if you want to be you be you. Cause thee’s a million things to do. You know that there are.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts