Fire rainbow hair

And hues of blue in your eyes,

Tears running down your skin

And only love on your mind,

 

But revenge threatens

Like a bubbling red death.  

Something like a storm cloud

Passes as your breath,

 

Shuddering with spite,

A force that cannot stop.  

I know you too well,

From bottom to top,

 

From the target of your lightning bolt

To your house of pent up emotions

That rolls over, again and again,

With fear of hateful notions.  

 

These notions are like nasty winds

Trying to push these thoughts away

And let the Earth simmer down

And ignore the problems of our day.  

 

These notions - homophobic -

Now only aggravate the storm.  

We warned and warned, “It isn’t over

Until our love can take its form!”  

 

But still, with scornful conviction,

They raise those damn signs

That preach hatred in the name of love

Like tornadoes that strike wind chimes.  

 

What they hear is Glory’s call

Ringing from those chimes,

But we hear threats to rip up our home -

Our place in the world.  Every time!  

 

Every freaking time a child

Wonders what they will be,

A homophobe with a chalkboard

Is somewhere waiting to “teach.”  

 

Every freaking time a teen

Wonders who they are,

A homophobe that claims to love them

Is somewhere waiting to hit them hard.  

 

Every freaking time a student

Finally gets a degree,

A homophobe viewing their resume

Is somewhere to tell them to leave.  

 

Every freaking time

That a man and a man

Or a woman and a woman -

Anything but a man and a woman -

Want to wed,

A homophobe is somewhere

Demanding that they die instead.  

 

We know

That others must face the continual rude push.  

Transgender, agender, and gender fluid;

Bisexual, pansexual, and asexual;

Etcetera.  

We all wish to be understood.  

 

In this drought of color,

We thirst for sweet success

And the chance to live life,

But instead we ingest

 

The fake promises

And reassurances of politicians.  

We thought we were close to having it all

After the Obergefell v. Hodges decision.  

 

Of course, there will always be

Quite a way to go.  

Tears will be shed, but they will quench

The seeds that we have sown.  

 

In the future, the flowers shall bloom

And be found beautiful and common in yards,

Given to loved ones in a bouquet,

And symbolic of our hearts.  

 

Red for the determined,

Orange for the passionate,

And yellow for the sweet and kind;

Green for the leaders,

Blue for the sincere,

And purple for the change-driven minds.  

 

This is what you may see

In the arc that marks our sky

After the stormy battle is done.  

Perhaps everyone will come outside.