Month: May 2016

Leonard Cohen

Leonard Cohen knew about some things

About the truth of subtle moments

The aching carried in small gestures.

 

I sing and am reminded of Toronto

There’s something that hangs in his words

about love and passion and longing

That reminds me of being in that city

And wanting to love someone

And loving a few

But knowing or hoping there was more.

 

So now I say I am gay.

The shoe fits.

But what was I before?

I don’t think I was lying

I just did not know

Most of the time.

 

The last time I saw you you looked so much older…

 

Time passes and friendships become chapters and stories.

Like when he touched the inside of my knee

And I thought I might be in love.

But that ship has sailed

And I am no longer built in that way

In a way that allows me to believe I could love a man.

 

Me with You

You

You

You and I…

I won’t use four letter words that hold so much weight

So

What can I say?

I am infatuated.

Sounds so trite.

Why is it that the present can only be judged by the future.

Now

I am glad I did not end when I thought I could.

When I thought I was satisfied.

When I thought that there was no more

That I should express gratitude

That I shouldn’t complain

That emptiness was a privilege

And I forgot

Me.

Me

That amazing person that was me

is me

And there are sparkling lights

And your eyes burn in my mind.

I remember now

What the songs are about.

Everything and nothing has changed

I love her.

It’s hard to sit into my feelings for her when my brain is all over the place – when I am just finding my footing – when at times none of this seems at all real.

My life.  Like I am living in an alternate reality.  Like all the cells in my body have changed and I am actually a whole new person housing the same old soul.  As if my childhood up to last year was an entirely different life – and I actually did die on my way to my first date with her, or perhaps even earlier.

It is like a Murakami novel.  Almost real – but not quite.  Subtle changes that indicate a large shift.  And blatant changes that can only be dealt with my acting as though they are normal.

Sitting on this balcony now seems like an entirely different place than 10 months ago.  I sat out here the last days of June – 2am when no one was around – and I looked out.  Knowing that everything would change.

Only a couple of weeks later was my first time with a woman.  Not the woman I love, but my catalyst.  I am grateful for her – bold and unapologetic.  In many ways she was a bad idea – but she’s the best bad idea I have ever had, as she set me free from my self made prison and lead me to where I am now.  Sitting on my balcony – in love – as my whole self.