Ultimatum

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like those countless times
Your dad picks on you,
Because you’re gay,
And you dread the sound of him entering a room;
So much so that he makes you afraid of men in general –
To be tired of the fear and the feelings of inadequacy.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like falling in love,
When you realise it wasn’t meant to be just once,
Like all those books say,
It happens over and over again,
With people who cut up your heart;
Because they cannot love it whole.
To be tired of explaining who you are,
To those who want to love you entire
But cannot.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like the pain that rips your inside,
When the children you love are taken
By death – and yet you get another –
For the love you gain
It’s happiness you sacrifice.
To be tired then of death itself;
Because you have met him as a guest
Who is unwelcome but demands attention
And a complete tally of records.

You say you’re tired;
But I’ll tell you how tired feels:
It feels like all those futile times,
When you tried to make yourself more than
A caricature
Of trying to prove your quality.
To be tired of prejudice itself;
Because you realise humanity is bitter
And their contentment lies in the ruin of the other.

You say you’re tired.
But that’s a bit of how my tired feels.

Saving

I couldn’t save myself,
I couldn’t even try,
When all suns turned dark
All the waters ran dry.

There were no bird songs,
Or angels on clouds;
Just a press of fury,
In sexual crowds.

I tried hard to dance
To help with the pain,
Of not fitting in,
Of braving the disdain.

I tried many things;
Each different from the past;
I tried saving each,
I tried to make them last.

But, you see, I am jaded,
And I know Hope as a liar,
I know the lampoons of Fate,
I know Ambition’s mire.

I can’t weep anymore:
Age has taken all my tears;
But I wish it had left me one
And taken instead my fears.

I know people are cruel,
For I am people, too,
And Gadgets have not helped,
After Nature laughed and withdrew.

I can’t save myself now,
It is too late to try
And why even bother, I ask,
When it all has to die?

Faith

Faith moves mountains,
They say.

Faith moved me
To be a disbeliever.

Don’t get me wrong.
I wish I could kneel
And look up and say,
I know you have my back;
I could say,
Oh, you know best;
There will be something better,
That there is
A larger plan.

But my children died.
And all I asked was for less suffering.
A little lesser than the last.
Until with the last there was nothing left.

I asked when I believed.
Now I know the blankness.
And the silence.

I’ve seen religion and ritual
Twist me into softness:
Into believing there is law,
There will be justice.
But
There isn’t.
There is silence and sacrifice.

So I choose to turn away
From a fait accompli.

I’m uncertain.
That makes me stronger.
Less kinder.
But if I have given up on
Divinity
Being kind is an anticlimax.