Awakenings

He woke up with a sort of glaze over his eyes and a bleary taste in his mouth. The brash sun cut into his eyes, and he shut them again, trying to remember the blissful night and escape today.

In his dream he was holding something—he did not know what it was—well, he had known, in the dream, but now in consciousness and daylight he could not remember. He wandered, aimlessly, through mazes of attic rooms and kitchens with women and angelic children and smells of meatloaf. He strode through towns, sleepy and idyllic and timeless.

He held this, this thing that was something, and he walked. He strolled through an emerald park and looked at ducks paddling in the fountain. Alone, he walked through the middle of the road and into another park, also emerald, but with two fountains and swans instead of ducks. He missed the ducks.

He was looking for something, he knew. He was not searching in the frantic searching way of a man in desperate need of something, but in a suspended way, a way of searching where one is always walking and always looking and never stops. But he did not know what he was looking for—no, he did not know, although in the dream he was sure that the longing for it had permeated every fiber of his being and consumed him with this longing.

Again he walked through a park, devoid of both ducks and swans, but he did not mind anymore, or even notice. Maybe (he thought now, in waking, in hindsight) he had known he was getting closer, closer to this thing that had no name or purpose but the object of his search. But still his search was calm, his legs in their even stride were tempered.

Dreaming in a most un-dreamlike state, he crested a hill. Alone on this hill he stood, standing and surveying what should have been a vista but was instead a patchwork flatness that did not impress or repulse, it merely seemed to be. Here, in this dream, he looked down at the object in his hand—this object that now, in waking, had escaped him—he looked down at it. Here, above the patchwork flatness, in pink half-light, he saw it (whatever it was) and knew he had been looking for it the whole time. 

Stuck Here Now

Tumble down and down
Shatterglass breaks then the
Sun rises (praise be)
apricot and cerulean swirl of hello,
Filter lemon light
Low, low song
Rap rap and a building crescendo and a
High
Note
For
Them
Before descending back to the
Monotony of vim and verve
When we wonder why
Again and again
Ask and ask and
If the question is important then
Why do they only teach the answer

Born This Way

I'd like to think that most people have accepted the fact that homosexuality (or heterosexuality) is innate; being LGBT is not something that can be converted or beaten out of you. But then again, I'd like to think that people could just sit down and talk about their issues to solve them. When you think about it, it makes a lot of sense...

But I digress. In my opinion, the idea that an individual has "changed" their sexual preference to irritate the government or just to "stick it to the man" is offensive and narrow-minded. For example, I cannot change my race. My genetic makeup dictates my ethnicity. I could act like an Inuit or an Italian, but I cannot BE an Inuit or Italian. Anyone who wanted to could act as though they enjoyed homosexual relations, but they are not a homosexual. Sexual preferences are not only a personality trait, they are an essential part of biological makeup. 

And so some ask: nature or nurture? Is a child raised away from all thoughts of homosexuality still going to be a homosexual? And conversely, would a child raised by gay parents become a homosexual automatically? 

Sexual preference is not contagious. Yes, a man raised by a minister and his wife may grow up, get married and have two children and a successful career and not discover his true sexual preference or come out for many years, but at some point he will become aware, publicly or privately, of his sexual orientation. For various reasons having to do with prejudice, stigma and religion, this man may choose to stay in the closet. But his preferences will not alter; they will merely be buried. 

At some point, people will wake up. They will realize that as long as there has been life, there has been sex. For as long as people have been on Earth, they have reproduced, and for as long as there have been men and women, there have been homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals and transgendered persons. This is a fact of life. And marriage of two people who love each other should never be a question, whether it is religious or political. 

Any religion will say that love is essential to life. I doubt that God cares what sort of love it is.