Freedom

To my Queer group 

Maybe we’ll let down our walls here, lay down a while,

dance, cut and scribble and come without makeup, 

or with makeup. Here, names can be born. I am reborn 

in witnessing the blossoming of you. Pour your voice out 

like tea and I will savour the warmth sliding down the slope

of my throat. Worries settle like tea leaves and you hold them 

without wincing. As if heat doesn’t burn and sirens are only songs 

by some strange bird. We know the history wedged between the 

cushions of these sofas softened by bodies old and new; you 

know there is nothing more meaningful than a child’s joy.

I wonder how it feels on the inside when young souls are 

on the other side of the door, hearts eager for some comfort

in this little haven we have. Here we are. How wonderful is

your existence. What a miracle that I get to remember your faces.

Art by Oriel Baker