Why did the heterosexual…

Why did the heterosexual cross the road?

A powerful personal testimony even for me
is the burden that I used to carry
It was heavy needless to say
I bore it thinking I owned it
Let me describe the contents of that load.
The brand of the suitcase is ‘Rejection’
It’s broad and wide and has many pockets
neglected by parents,
who left emotionally
years before their physical disappearance
I stuffed that in first – didn’t even bother to fold it
Moving from home to home to home
suitcase, still somewhat empty,
I dumped in the obvious, “No-one loves me”
Fed, clothed and sheltered
but not hugged and re-assured
my suitcase, ‘rejection’ now my companion
magically opened for me to place more in
as the incessant molestation begins
no-one offered to carry my suitcase when they saw
me as slowly I grew to abhor
leaving it behind
where else would I hide these secrets
And into my life slew
more mistrust, more violation
So, yes, the size grew
I waited for you,
Mummy, you,
Daddy, you,
brother, you
somebody, who
anybody, to scan the contents
of my suitcase, ‘Rejection’
but life trudged on and caused it to distend
And suddenly the pattern became clearer
..so it’s my fault, it’s because I don’t fight
it’s because I’m a girl, this is my right
unable to identify with femininity
And scared far from its abused volatility
the friendly and the open withdrew
and I stuffed that into the suitcase too
Now, filled to overflowing with reasons to
believe the worse
I started the migration away from these hurts
it was relatively easy, in my search for identity
i didn’t realize the suitcase had gotten so heavy
Around the same time, a love began to embrace me
but it was too late to salvage
for, as evidence, my suitcase of damage
so in the opposite direction of anything that could remind me
of the patches I’ve applied and
against the wall of pain
I’ve licked my thread and sewn the holes of my suitcase
you’re presenting this option too late
I already hate
every essence of woman
holding my suitcase in defense
against man, the enemy
I admire instead, those women who seem
stronger than me
Running towards and away from my identity
finding wet solace in the arms of my women
Moist with passion, hot with tears
and excited finally
by this new article for my suitcase; fears.
Loving myself and my women
Wholeheartedly
running away from and towards my identity
Claiming a misdiagnosis
that did not properly cater for
the needs I never received
turning my innocent desire for love
to hate and then back to desire
to placate my frustration
and complicate the diffusion of ‘lesbian’ to my assent
my suitcase now holding permanence in my existence
every new encounter, held lightly, already
strained
smiling, engaging, laughing, romancing while pained
I crossed the road
because my experiences wore me thin
and I gave in to the prognosis
ill-advised
till freed, were opened my eyes
to see the contents of my suitcase
Rejection had been packed up with lies
I’d crossed the road
because I was worn thin
and the burden now gone
I’m taking articles out
one by one
and as I air them out,
the other side near reaching
and a superb loving God,
calling to me and speaking
I’m truly in the middle of this road
but I know God’s got my back
’cause I know he took my load..

copyright © 2009 janberry

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