against my window
meets the percussion of my grandmother's shuffle
i flicker awake
i flicker awake
always late to the songs i'm trapped in
retreat into dreams
into ravens and ovens for as long as i can
i only emerge to write the cells down
but even Oracle of Delphi girls like me got to eat
The bishops hold my bread out of reach
and smash pomegranates against my teeth
i swallow, but all i taste are daffodils
They lock me in the basement
because Hades sleeps in my hips
i got to kick him out every morning
and he aches, brings me to sway
off-beat
off balance
off meds
Zeus sends Hermes to ask me for an arc
or a better ending
But the happiest I can give him
is a quiet child named Maybe
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things haven't been easy lately. Or, to be more exact, my self hasn't been. I sleep later, eat less, cry more, and worry about labels like they matter. Need to remember every emotion is a choice even if it doesn't feel like it.
That's one concept that's always mystified me: every emotion started with a thought.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels faster than she thinks some days... most days.
Most faiths demand emptying yourself in some way (except Satanism, but I think I'm too late for that one). Catholicism says to mortify the senses. Buddhism says to release ownership of every feeling. Orthodox Judaism calls for the burning of your favorite lamb at least. So I'm trying to surrender the things I can't control and to not want what I don't need. Like marriage.
I've been technically engaged for three years. Because of religious differences, I'm not sure if my partner and I will ever get married. We continue to say we're engaged because we have every intention of staying together (and because we like labels), but our marriage, if any, might just be common law. Normally, I don't care, but this past Sunday, I woke up to my little sister watching Say Yes to the Dress, which prompted my mother to comment on how silly it was to spend thousands of dollars on a wedding dress when she'd got hers for only $300 off the rack, which reminded me I might never get to do either one. Then I went to church and a couple was celebrating their 50th anniversary by renewing their wedding vows. I clapped and smiled with the rest of the congregation, trying not to think about the possibility that I may never get to exchange vows in church at all, but, in so doing, thinking it.
As I was walking out of mass, a priest to whom I'd previously made the mistake of mentioning my situation, said to me, "You know, if you ever want to get things rolling, you and your fiancee really need to come speak to me."
I agreed and began to apologize, not knowing how to tell him I'd given up months ago.
Before I could finish, Father patiently assured me it wouldn't take that long and we could meet in the parish office instead of the church, but regardless I needed to get my partner past his phobia, because church seemed very important to me and...
"I don't mind going to church alone," I said.
"Welllllll, things change once you have kids."
And I so was not about to get into The Birth Control Argument with a priest, so I kept my shut on that one. He continued to lecture/evangelize/yammer until I said, "I really think the issue is my fiancee would be more comfortable with an outdoor ceremony."
"You're right," He said. "That is an issue--you can't do it."
"Why?"
"Because then I have to get permission from the bishop, and the bishops loathe outdoor weddings."
"Why?"
"Well, there's logistical issues like bugs and wind, and marriage is a sacrament, so--"
"But I've been to outdoor masses before."
"Masses and weddings are two different things. Weddings need to be recorded, for one thing. For another thing, they are a celebration within a community--a church--that two people have joined together."
"But the community can go outside. This--"I said, gesturing to the building "--is a symbol."
"But symbols mean things! They're important." He sighed. "I don't make the rules. When I became a priest, when I made my vows, I swore obedience and humility to the bishop. I could argue with you. I could say I'm in favor of it--but in the end, it's the bishops decision."
I can't quite explain why I did what I did next. Maybe it was the way the priests mustache had twitched the entire conversation, begging me to be a good little Catholic girl and let him be right. Maybe all the latent rage over years of internalized guilt and ritualistic obsession and theological bureaucracy boiled over. Maybe I'm just a rebellious bitch. In any case, I was done with the conversation.
"Okay," I said calmly. "I guess I just won't get married then. Thanks, Father."
I walked away.
He called several things at me, but I just kept walking.
I did eventually write an apologetic email to him, because, other than being nosy, the guy was just doing his job. Haven't received a reply yet, but he probably doesn't have a whole lot of nice things to say to me, so I respect his silence.
In reality, my situation isn't new. There are thousands of Catholic gay couples who will never be validated by the church, albeit for different reasons, but I'd bet the majority of their relationships are every bit as healthy as any married couples. Similarly, I think my relationship with C is just as happy and healthy as my married friends.
I love C more than any dream wedding. We'll always have spiritual differences, but, even if they demand sacrifices sometimes, I love them too because they make us who we are.
Now I must go with C to run errands, but I wish you well, friends. Peace!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Things haven't been easy lately. Or, to be more exact, my self hasn't been. I sleep later, eat less, cry more, and worry about labels like they matter. Need to remember every emotion is a choice even if it doesn't feel like it.
That's one concept that's always mystified me: every emotion started with a thought.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels faster than she thinks some days... most days.
Most faiths demand emptying yourself in some way (except Satanism, but I think I'm too late for that one). Catholicism says to mortify the senses. Buddhism says to release ownership of every feeling. Orthodox Judaism calls for the burning of your favorite lamb at least. So I'm trying to surrender the things I can't control and to not want what I don't need. Like marriage.
I've been technically engaged for three years. Because of religious differences, I'm not sure if my partner and I will ever get married. We continue to say we're engaged because we have every intention of staying together (and because we like labels), but our marriage, if any, might just be common law. Normally, I don't care, but this past Sunday, I woke up to my little sister watching Say Yes to the Dress, which prompted my mother to comment on how silly it was to spend thousands of dollars on a wedding dress when she'd got hers for only $300 off the rack, which reminded me I might never get to do either one. Then I went to church and a couple was celebrating their 50th anniversary by renewing their wedding vows. I clapped and smiled with the rest of the congregation, trying not to think about the possibility that I may never get to exchange vows in church at all, but, in so doing, thinking it.
As I was walking out of mass, a priest to whom I'd previously made the mistake of mentioning my situation, said to me, "You know, if you ever want to get things rolling, you and your fiancee really need to come speak to me."
I agreed and began to apologize, not knowing how to tell him I'd given up months ago.
Before I could finish, Father patiently assured me it wouldn't take that long and we could meet in the parish office instead of the church, but regardless I needed to get my partner past his phobia, because church seemed very important to me and...
"I don't mind going to church alone," I said.
"Welllllll, things change once you have kids."
And I so was not about to get into The Birth Control Argument with a priest, so I kept my shut on that one. He continued to lecture/evangelize/yammer until I said, "I really think the issue is my fiancee would be more comfortable with an outdoor ceremony."
"You're right," He said. "That is an issue--you can't do it."
"Why?"
"Because then I have to get permission from the bishop, and the bishops loathe outdoor weddings."
"Why?"
"Well, there's logistical issues like bugs and wind, and marriage is a sacrament, so--"
"But I've been to outdoor masses before."
"Masses and weddings are two different things. Weddings need to be recorded, for one thing. For another thing, they are a celebration within a community--a church--that two people have joined together."
"But the community can go outside. This--"I said, gesturing to the building "--is a symbol."
"But symbols mean things! They're important." He sighed. "I don't make the rules. When I became a priest, when I made my vows, I swore obedience and humility to the bishop. I could argue with you. I could say I'm in favor of it--but in the end, it's the bishops decision."
I can't quite explain why I did what I did next. Maybe it was the way the priests mustache had twitched the entire conversation, begging me to be a good little Catholic girl and let him be right. Maybe all the latent rage over years of internalized guilt and ritualistic obsession and theological bureaucracy boiled over. Maybe I'm just a rebellious bitch. In any case, I was done with the conversation.
"Okay," I said calmly. "I guess I just won't get married then. Thanks, Father."
I walked away.
He called several things at me, but I just kept walking.
I did eventually write an apologetic email to him, because, other than being nosy, the guy was just doing his job. Haven't received a reply yet, but he probably doesn't have a whole lot of nice things to say to me, so I respect his silence.
In reality, my situation isn't new. There are thousands of Catholic gay couples who will never be validated by the church, albeit for different reasons, but I'd bet the majority of their relationships are every bit as healthy as any married couples. Similarly, I think my relationship with C is just as happy and healthy as my married friends.
I love C more than any dream wedding. We'll always have spiritual differences, but, even if they demand sacrifices sometimes, I love them too because they make us who we are.
Now I must go with C to run errands, but I wish you well, friends. Peace!
Me throughout October
Belinda
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