The Poetry Marathon

What does it mean to “come out of the closet”?
Coming out is about being ready, able, and unafraid.
To be who you truly are.
Who you have always been.

To tell people, “This is me.”
“Take it or leave it.”
Hoping those you love will accept you.
Knowing that not all will.

It’s about being tired.
Tired of being something you are not.
Tired of hiding who you are.

Not everyone’s “closet” is the same.
Nor is the experience of exiting said closet.

Closets come in different shapes and sizes.
Have different contents.
Some feel safer than others.
Most are dark and lonely.

Some closets are known.
Others unknown.
Or rather denied their existence.

Be who you are.
Come out and be with your people.

An ordinary chair?
I think not.
This chair has been places.

It has “met” some famous people as a tree.
A squirrel lived within it.
A little finch made a nest among the branches.
Raised many babies there.

As lumber it “met” a famous artisan.
Tasked to turn it into a fine chair.
Intricate ornate carvings carved into it.
Given arms and legs.

After being made into a chair,
it “met” many more famous people.
Queens and Kings sat upon it.
Many other Kings, Queens, and Lords
stood before it.

Not an ordinary chair, but a throne.

Such a broad question.
Should it be though?
Do people’s concept of love vary
so much that there isn’t one definition?

Universal ideals and thoughts.
Even a list of words to describe it.

Love is dependent on the individuals involved.
Parent towards a child.
The child for their parents.

The intimate love between two people.
Versus the love between two friends.
Or the love of something that does not love back.
An object of some significance.
Love of a pet and the pets “love” back.

The depth of love varies,
even among the various types.
One couples love of each other,
differs from the next.

The one thing love always is,
the immense pain it can cause
when it is broken.

Heartache and raw emotion from its loss.
Is that why we often
“don’t know what we have, until it’s gone”?

We don’t cherish it like we should,
when it’s around?

Love is great,
until it’s not.

An idea switched to life.
Like a light-bulb,
receiving power.

An elk living in the bayou.
Using a carport for shelter.
Eating beets from the garden.

A jacket of fur,
the color of cinnamon.
A tremor from the cold hits.

Elbow deep in mud.
Bucket on its antler,
like hat on rack.

Weird the ideas
in my head.

Back to the outdoors.
Leave technology behind.
Enjoying the night sky.
Stars shining brightly.

A vast universe.
So many destinations.
Places to go.
People and things to see.

Oh, the great outdoors.

Cheep, cheep, cheep.
Cute little voices.
Baby chickens.
So small and soft.

Growing fast.
Cheep, cheep, cheep.
Dependent on others,
for food and love.

Tiny little wings tucked away.
Small beaks making petite sounds.
Cheep, cheep, cheep.
Baby feet.

Will you be a boy.
Or a girl.
Adorable baby chicks.
Cheep, cheep, cheep.

Standing.
Looking up, gazing.
Stars so beautiful.

Sign says “Danger”.
Warning of “The Edge”.
What’s over there?

To be able to look.
See what is hiding.
Know what lies beneath.

Creeping forward.
One step.
Then another.

Longing to peer over.
What if I fall?
Where would I go?

Desire for knowledge overtakes.
Stepping to the edge.
Looking over.

Slowly.
A person is looking back.
Not any person.

It’s me.

Short?
Maybe.
Brown hair, probably.
Eyes, green likely.

Clothing?
Most definitely.
Shoes black,
might be gray.

Someone familiar?
Possibly.

Close friend?
Almost certainly.

Something dangerous?
Could have been.

Bad, or illegal?
Absolutely not.

Anyone hurt?
Surely yes.

Dead?
Literally or metaphorically?

Literally?
No.

Today?
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

All the time?
Not all, but some.

At home?
Often.

Outside?
Frequently.

Anywhere else?
Within.

Motive?
Unsure.

Excuses?
None that come to mind.

What a mystery.

Paper.
White, possibly.
Stamped with a seal.
Signed by two parties,
and some witnesses.

An official legal document.
Granting special privileges.
Privileges desired by many.
Given only to some.

What this paper isn’t,
love, trust, partnership,
equality, or binding.

This paper does not hold accountability.
It doesn’t prevent pain,
emotional or physical.
Just a false sense of security.

It doesn’t make desire.
Desire to be with someone.
Someone special.
To love someone,
despite any flaws.

It doesn’t require apologies.
For wrongs done,
intentionally or not.

It doesn’t generate smiles,
or laughter at a shared joke.

It doesn’t offer companionship.
It won’t have your back.
Fight with you when you need it.
Share in the ups and downs,
that are life.

Paper is just paper.
Something easily broken.
Ripped to pieces.

True love and companionship.
Not as easy to break.

All alone.
Time to reflect.
To clear out thoughts.

Negative thoughts.
Thoughts of despair.
Unwanted thoughts.

Why are these thoughts?
Where do they from?
Why do they always?

Alone time.

Time for processing.
Of events, both
current and past.

Time to work out the mind.
To find yourself.
Meditate.

Listen to your inner self.
Listen to your needs.
Your wants and desires.

The sounds that silence make.
Sounds of nothing.
Of everything.

Shh.
Listen.
Nothing.