Divine Mother

divine mother
liam bechen

the Divine
i’m starting to believe
is an energy made 
of all the goodness
of all beings everywhere
our potential for love
fully realized

my mother in all her frightened shrinking
in all her angry heart chambers
has
i know
embodied the Divine,
especially in loving me
and loving the beast
that hibernates within
my father’s skin

how is it that i honor
and love this creature, my mother,
who is both my pearly satin cocoon
and the dark dripping cave
where i’m even afraid
to slumber?
how do i love her?
how do i divine her?

she is perpetually red-cheeked as i am
and i shame my face
and my body 
as my shape struggles to contain hers,
struggles against the chains of my femininity
emblazoned on my boyhood.

i am ashamed of my mother
and what she gave me
and yet 
i see this light in her eyes
when she looks at me,
the joyful exaltation
at my sole existence
that i can’t even muster most mornings
for myself
so effortless
so pure
so proud
in that glance,
despite all our differences,
i am Divined
and it scares me

now when she looks at me
she can even sometimes mask
the fumble in her eyes
the momentary glint of 
darkness that shifts to numbness
that has long appeared at my queerness
and even that, i know,
is love and growth

almost 60 and she’s still moving
my mother is a rockstar
and a sharp-edged thorn
like the roses she taught
me to strip bare-fingered as a child
she’s washing dishes
in her josh groban shirt, singing
under her breath

i can’t believe she bore me out
and yet
as i trek up this mountain
toward Divination
i see in myself this effortless love
and deep joy at lives i’ve lent
my breath to
and i know that is my mother,
my body-connected Divine—
she teaches me
love at its fullest arch
she was my first Divine

malkatz:

i hate when people vilify psychiatric pills as ‘mind-altering drugs’

like

yes

that’s exactly what they are

they are for mental illness

mental

if i had a kidney-related illness, i would hope to have kidney-altering drugs on the market

fandomacepilot:

Repeat after me kids:

A relationship does not have to be romantic and/or sexual to be important. 

since it’s pride month: on homonormative pride events and making yer own space within them

i’m not much for pride events in a lot of ways. i find them disgustingly marginalizing of mine and other queers’/trans folx’ identities. i also feel unsafe in that i feel like as a visibly queer and gender non-conforming person the magnifying glass is right on me and how i don’t fit in looms large and i feel like i might easily become the target of violence brought on by the sea of rainbows, the discarding of my identity and safety by the homonormative community, and how funnily people look at me even amidst the sea of rainbows and how dangerous that feels. i also think the current way pride is ‘celebrated’ is completely gross racist capitalistic bullshit capitalizing on and reinforcing systemic marginalization in the name of ‘celebrating’ and ‘supporting’ . get outta my pride, TD bank and budweiser and especially the HRC. y’all don’t give two shits about my identity and you definitely don’t support me.

however, it occurred to me as i was sitting in a gay bar last night drinking my one beer slowly and observing the culture around me, that for me pride events are like queer memorial day (minus the military-prison-industrial complex, ofc) — remembering our dead, as well as the weight of the history and struggle that has come before me and how grateful i am for that work. pride is  also my queer fourth of july — forcibly pushing back the assimilation of my queerness, my trans survivor body, to say i’m fucking here, i’m queer, and today i declare my independence from you. you don’t own me. i’m beautiful just as i am. and i’m gonna look damn cute while i’m at it.

i’m thinking about these timely revelations today, too, on fathers day - one thing queerness has taught me best is that family is chosen, too, and family comes in so many flavors, and i’m so goddamn grateful for my chosen family. my chosen family is how i have learned what ‘love’ is.

when the livin’ is easy

moderateclimates:

The old house across the way,
cracked wood, cracked spines inside,
plays the gramophone constantly.

Merry-go-round hymns float gently
on summer breezes: slowly.
They dance on sunbeams,
gliding through the open window.

Fairy dust hangs in the light
and waits to touch a hopeful heart.

I am warmed by carousel laughter
and piano notes. Here, trapped:
confined to this armchair:

I watch June sail by.