Joanne Hillhouse – “Differences” – Poem (Antigua and Barbuda)

Differences

“Is his choice”

He says

Matter of fact

Like the boy deserved to die

For this

Accident of biology

He has that

Implacability

Men of a certain age

(or stubbornness)

Do

Is this what it feels like when your blood boils?

The words want to push out of me

And burn his soul

The boy is dead

I want to scream

If he had kissed

A pretty girl

Instead of another

Randy guy

Would he then

Deserve to live?

“You’re not going to convince me”

He says

So just stop

And I find that I can’t

Suddenly it’s important

To me

That he

Not be like this

Closed off

Judgmental

Hard headed

(like I’m being now, toward him)

I have to find an opening

They betrayed him

I scream

“He chose it”

He insists

To love

I press

To love

Not to be stoned for it

Or have barbed wire

Pulled through his flesh

Or worse yet

Have prying eyes download and dissect

What should have been private

“He chose it”

He insists

Like God willed it

(Not the God I choose to worship; She hugs us all to her bosom)

I tell myself there’s more

More than the science

Of fire and brimstone

If I could just decipher it

Read between his lines

His philosophy is simple after all

Accept life as it is

Don’t weep over it

And don’t let people in your head

And maybe that’s it

That he finds the boy weak

For not stiffening his back

And pushing through

Because to him

Giving in

Is the only real sin

But I look at him

As he sits

Reading the paper

Brow furrowed at politicians

And their antics

While I stand in an island

Blowing smoke

Desperate to have him see that

Death may be life

But it still hurts

That trusting may be stupid

But it is still given in

Hope

Of making a connection

That a boy (or girl) who is different

Is not to be savaged

That our differences are to be cherished

Even in how we stand up to this –

Hurricane or shame

That the shame is not in his choice

To give in

But in their decision to ridicule him

And in our decision to judge him

(and give them a bye!)

And to find each other wanting

For being who we are

Me, him

And the boy

Neither of us knows

© 100110 Joanne C. Hillhouse