Monday, 3 March 2014

He died with shame

Here a poem published on  Pambazuka .
It is dedicated to all the people who are oppressed because of who they are and who they love. 
It is also an invitation for all the people who don't know much about LGBTI's issues and could try to get informed and help to build up a common understanding, an open dialogue able to break  prejudices and stereotypes.

Dedicated to Him
He was young
He was a son
He was a friend,
He was a gay,
He was HUMAN


He died with shame

I knew him and I can’t remember his voice
I knew him and I can’t recall the last time we had a talk
I knew him and I can’t figure out what was his last exam about
I knew him

One day
Can’t remember when ...
How can I?
Memory stepped away from me
With no indulgence
Just ran out of me superficially as daily life sucks our attention on small things
Turning hunger on the big global events
Miles away from us
Fat and insignificant to the love and compassion we need for real

One day he left a coffee colored envelop on the desk, after lecture
He left it and I didn’t know
I saw the envelop and kept it aside
Waiting for the best moment to open it and see what was inside.
That time I didn’t see who had left it
I didn’t know it was him
I didn't know it was him
We were so many ...
He didn’t stop by to ask for a chat, a single moment of attention
I don’t know if he would have done it if given a second chance
Why guessing?
He had already chosen his way to share what he needed to say

He died with shame

I kept that envelop for 24 hours
It has been the longest time I’ve ever counted
I kept the envelop on the sofa
With books and newspapers jotted with rough notes of empty dreams
It was there resting in peace 
While inside sheets of A4 paper were filled with words of shame and anger
Beauty and love,
Compassion and understanding
Words looking for solace
Drops of unease
I didn't know then
I know now

He died with shame

I didn’t know him well
He was one of them
A student called to his mission
Trying to fill a new vocabulary to describe his generation
Who didn’t have a proper translation
For his identity
Where hypocrisy
Paternalistic forces and pretending idols
Are still fighting to win over imagination and freedom
they preach love and brotherhood with one hand on the Bible 
and another on the pocket
killing brothers and sisters 
who refuse the stigma

He died with shame

I didn’t know him much
but one thing I always knew
Since I saw his eyes
He had hungry eyes
Needy of different images
His eyes seemed tired
over fed with the same scenario
with what is on world screen
in E V E R Y D A Y life
Global vs authenticity
Stereotype vs responsibility
Cowardice vs honesty

His eyes were drawn in a well of ambiguity.
Sorrow and anger
drinking from the same glass
I didn’t know what was all about
I didn’t open that envelop on time
24 hours have been the longest time I ever counted

A seven pages letter long has left behind
Something to stay after him
A seven pages letter long to slip out the shame he died with
A seven pages letter long to ask for a vocabulary
suitable enough to translate his shame into a beautiful truth

He died with shame

I didn’t know I was going to be late
I didn’t know I was going to be sucked in a living nightmare
I didn’t know I would be the one who ignored his need to be true

He died with shame
He died with shame
And I wasn’t there
When he asked for resilience
in his seven pages letter long
intimately drawn in his truth
I wasn’t there, in that very place where I could encourage
a set of understanding, a plate of sharing
I wasn’t there to say
I’m with you
Side by side

He died with shame

I’m full of emptiness
speculating on chances and possibilities
and dreams
What if?
What if I had open that envelop on time?
What if I had called him by my side and hugged him
for his courage to confide with me
who he really was
looking for a better place where to feel safe
from the stigma which other people's eyes sewed on his skin?

He was He
He was He
He was He and died with shame
He wrote to fuck that shame off the world's face
In the solitude of his seven A4 paper letter long
Where none would
tag him
label him
qualify him
identify him
Humanity is the only qualifications he aimed to
He poured his pain out
His solitude drawn him into exile
A strange place
Where circumstances gather
To mess you up with your displacement
He dreamt about love
A word to pair with Human
He dreamt about truth

Today
His truth is my truth
No accusation
No blame
No fake indulgence
No pity

Just the beauty of truth

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