stonewall

Monument

I am at the monument to gay people persecuted during the war.
Steps lead to a point
Which looks to a future, the sign reads
Water in the canal comes up against the strong stone,
And recedes.
There are a group of women sitting on the steps dressed all in black.
They have champagne flutes in their hands
And are speaking a language I don’t understand
It looks like a celebration,
And in a way it is,
They move forward and place white flowers
At the furthermost point
Position them carefully across each other.
Memories flow over and into the water
Carried through the air
Moved by their grief.
The celebration of a life left,
Taking the next step, the loss felt.
I hope the person knew how much their friends cared.
There are tears now,
But they pool close
To one another.
EMC
Photo by the author 

Thresholds

Unknown to myself,

Hidden in my heart,

Like a hunch in your gut,

Or a voice in the dark.

 

Strange street signs and alleyways,

can’t see where this leads,

One step at a time,

I trip over my feet.

 

Neon letters glow

With an electric pulse,

A beacon flickers below,

And tells me where

 

To head first.

No hand to hold,

Go it alone.

Bodies move on impulse, and slip by close.

 

These are the bright lights,

They thrum and surge,

And I retreat behind them,

into the club.

 

EMC

Originally exhibited as part of the Stonewall Season, November 2016. 

Photo by the author.