Journal 5

they're all starring at something i cannot see
a thousand bodies all together
as i stand off from the crowd,
on the edge of a dense, beautiful, green forest
and a beautiful, groomed field
where blood spilled and men fought
the winds kick up leaves, but our nude bodies
all perfect, even mine
are seemingly untouched by them
i stare blankly at their unclothed backs
these boys turned men,
they grieve for something as they stand solidly together i am not part of them
and i search for what they grieve for
search hard
but it's like they never installed the software

i didn't have the luxury, like you did, of absolute orientation
i didn't have the luxury, like you did, of this whole male bonding thing
i didn't have the luxury, like you did, of this thing called normal

i've been a freak all my life
they always looked at me with some strange disdain
i was always doing something wrong
but i never knew what
or i did
but that was too much of price to pay
i would not spill my own blood or poison my own heart

for them
for all the tears my mother shed over my wrongness
for all the scars that wouldn't mar my soul today
for all the sickening nights I could have prevented

one of those backs turns to me and comes to me
"why don't you stand amongst us?" he asked quietly
i reply quietly, "i don't understand what you're grieving"
he looks at me quizically before his head falls downward
and he returns to the crowd.

what is it like to be a boyscout?
what is it like to win a highschool football game?
what is it like to have your balls sucked?
what is it like to be praised for your strength?
instead of punished for it?

the crowd is utterly silent,
each brother lays a hand on another's shoulder
solidarity becoming more solid
my hands are on no one's shoulders
and a prayer goes up but only asks for blessing
does not state what the backs are grieving

i remember the talks about dresses
i remember the talks about growing up to be a proper lady
i remember the talks about hopeless fantasies

the crowd disperses and i am alone in this field
what they were grieving, they have taken w/ them

i got dolls for christmas
i hated dolls
they gave me pretty new dresses
i hated dresses
i bled for 5 years
i hated bleeding

i wanna fuck some girl in the back of my car
missionary style
i wanna piss in the snow
some curse word
i wanna have my cock sucked
by some femme-y fagboy in the back of the toolbox
AND DAMNIT, I WANNA STAND AND GRIEVE
I WANNA KNOW WHAT THEY'RE GRIEVING
I WANNA KNOW....

a hand taps my shoulder and i turn suddenly to a
sombre face
he takes my hand unbidden
and leads me into the woods
his body is scarred
like mine

i've lived two angles
i've fucked them both
i've made love to them both
i've trashed and been trashed
i've observed relentlessly and studied their behaviors, those two angles

the forest passes by slowly and the face shows me
things i understand
we pass a black bike, with camo pads
and hand-me-down jeans
he points out a beaten pocket knife from solo-black-ops missions in the woods
and a giant bed-sheet tent
guarded by lego men and a lego city
the hard ground doesn't hurt our feet
i feel like i've walked this path before

you can fall to the bottom and stay there
you can fall to the bottom and crawl back out
only one will make you stronger

i've put up with the hatred in their eyes
i've cut through the shame in my heart
i've broken the chains shackled to me at birth

in the distance, i hear chanting
and i notice the forest's smell
like honeysuckles and theres the gentle mew of crickets
he notices them too and walks beside me without question in his eyes
color around me is brilliant
the path has softened somewhat
i stare at a stack of papers and journals
labeled "liberation"
on top, a parking pass
a rainbow flag is pinned between two trees
the chanting has gotten louder

I became who I am.
And they've hated me for it
I've become whole
And they say I'm not being good
I have become me
And what they say is what they fuck themselves with.

I have been w/ women and w/ men
I have been female and male
I have been given new eyes

he leads me closer to the chanting into small clearing
the people their are all grieving
they're all starring at something i cannot see
a thousand bodies all together
as i stand off from the crowd,
on the edge of a dense, beautiful, green forest
and a small mossy clearing
the winds kick up leaves, but our nude bodies
all perfect, even mine
are seemingly untouched by them
i stare blankly at their unclothed backs
these boys turned men,
they grieve for something as they stand solidly together
i am not part of them
and i search for what they grieve
search hard
the face appears back beside me and asks me quietly
"why don't you stand amongst us?"
i reply simply,"i know not what you grieve for"
he looks at me quizically and i turn to go
"we are not grieving"
i turn back
"we are celebrating"
"our brotherhood
our peace
our blessings
our strengths
our passion
and our souls"
he pulls me into the crowd
no one looks at me strangely

I won't know many things in this life
I won't experience many things
I will never be a father
I will never have a hardon
I will never have absolution for my lifetime.

and suddenly a prayer goes up
a hand falls on my back
as mine falls on another
and we ask for blessings
and do not grieve.



Back

Email: easton_6@hotmail.com