On the occasion of deaf ears and exhausted bent heads
23 Oct 2023 a poem in response to a witnessing
Welcome to 2023
where everything is not as easy as you’d like it to be
Not black and white
Nor binary
I look like me and she is a he
I don’t expect you to understand we
or even to SEE me, passing on the street or
Summoning the sea,
penetrating the world,
or tearing it apart.
Chewing on child’s bones under the steps
Of the old family home
Unearthing its foundation as nothing but rock
Pile anything together and it will stand up
Pile me with her and build a house on that, pile him with he
And let me stand pat.
Rock the remnants of you once-stable heart and choose not to see.
Change isn’t on the wind, it’s always been.
Its right in front of you, it’s everywhere:
You know these kids
Running together in circles round school-run legs;
You know the sense of security
You’ve raised them well, he will stay he.
Football and rugby and cups of tea.
The world has an order and it won’t catch out me.
School run rugby dads have secrets, too
Some of them might even be attracted (ive). (To you?)
So yes, we are unknowable – you proved that today
Communication’s fallacious - symbol-reliant and shortcutting mind
Pulls to the fore and insists it is a find
That certian knowledge is nothing but inherent bias
baked into you.
So Welcome to 2023
where everything is not as easy as we’d like it to be
Not black and white
Nor binary
I look like me and she is a he
But please don’t forget
As you sip your coffee, grinning and chatting at 3:30
Your children may look like a he, or a she
But they are unknowable, even as are we.