the only images of queer love that we had growing up
were tragic romances
ones where the lovers were only briefly together
if ever
messages and queer-coding thinly veiled
drinking and watching thelma and louise
the only way they got to be free
was driving off a fucking cliff
we didn't stand a chance
and forget about trans-masc-ness
the only image we ever got of that was brandon teena
being beaten to death
played by a cis-het actress no less
//
my teachers all got super clear at the end
one of them released a video just before their death
saying they were that rare Buddhist
who would tell you to fear it.
they stared, clear-eyed, straight into the camera,
yet with a glimmer of trickster mischief,
and said:
"fear death. fucking fear it. ... it's the only way life matters."
it was an admonishment against suicide, and they said, if you don't fear death, why fear life?
why not take a risk, go on that trip, return to school, let yourself be loved?
above all, they urged us to never give up.
they ended their message, as always:
"KEEP GOING."
//
but the desire to die can be subtle and insidious,
masking as we masquerade
thinking we know what's driving us.
they should have gone out with lamas around them singing and chanting
like that story they told
but instead they found them in their apartment alone
goes to show, you never know.
//
Thelma looked to Louise,
full of love and clear-eyed,
when they were poised at the edge
and said:
"Let's keep going."
//
we said we were best friends
when it was convenient
but really we were twins
stars of our own dramas
trying to be supportive.
we made a pact
long before this lifetime,
to help each other learn to be separate
to help each other nourish
and stop reaching for that last one
but I didn't know how to be there for you
without losing myself too.
I know it wasn't my job or my fault
but still
I wish I could've caught you.
//
we always went for "just one more"
until one day I changed course, and then it didn't work anymore
and you slipped away.
I thought we still had time
that you would always be there
until one day you took that longest step
and didn't come back.
//
the longest seven seconds in eternity
I still wonder what it was like
did your life flash before your eyes?
was it falling or flying?
did you reach terminal lucidity
at terminal velocity
or was it only terrifying?
I know it wasn't my job or my fault
but still
I wish I could've caught you.
//
my mentor left right before my sometimes-best-friend
five people close to me in six months crossed over
lion-hearted, true-blooded, but not-so-subtly self-destructive,
it's hard to say which of your deaths hit the hardest.
I helped you tell your greatest story
though I could never quite get mine together
and you struggled in the end to even want to be here
we could always be each others' editors.
we spoke in each others' voices
better than our own, even
but you've spoken clearly since you left.
and your final words up on the page
that you led me to directly
reflected your clear vision
your monastery was the forest
the fox and the badger were your teachers
and you realized that after a lifetime of striving
frontlines and bylines and dead-lines
the takers of life
the answer, you scrawled, was to surrender it all
even the desire for love
and in this you finally found peace.
look at you, Mr Newspaper Man,
sipping lager at the waters edge
more Buddhist than I am sitting at my altar chanting.
//
then there was my cousin
whose body was riddled with cancer
that started in her guts and spread all over
because she just wanted daddy to love her
the wound of the family
the wound of ireland
the pain we carry until somebody changes.
//
my advisor for the degree that I abandoned
was the clearest one of all
they showed everybody how to go out laughing and singing
not kicking and screaming
like I seem to keep doing.
but despite xir legacy
the Go Fund Me campaign from their family to preserve xir memory
misgendered them.
//
I promised to tell our stories
to tell their stories
and I have dedicated my life to trying to hear them
but no matter how many hours I spend in the astral
no matter how many thousands of words I spit out
it will never change the fact
that I didn't answer the phone the last time he called.
that we weren't speaking when he stepped off the ledge.
that I kept saying we'd talk later
until later never came.
//
it's hard to keep going.
but I promised to keep going.
somebody's got to do it.
and I see a better future
for the queer and trans and fluid,
immigrants and black sheep
too-much not-enough kids
if we can keep going.
//
what if nobody had to drive off a cliff
or jump off a building
to be free?
oh what a world that would be
I believe in it I guess
at least enough
to keep going.
