I forget sometimes That other people don’t think as I do. That to some My love Is blasphemy. It’s just What it is to me. Joy and pain Triumphs And failures Happily ever after And star-crossed mishap The same as any other. Who has the right to tell me who I can and cannot love? I love what to me is fitting Nothing else. There are no hard and fast rules In such an undertaking. I love what I love Because it is beautiful to me. I should need no other reason. Easy enough to say Hard enough to do. Your bible With it’s heavy, solid weight Is easier to hang onto Than my ephemeral convictions. You spit in my eyes I want to fall at your feet But I refuse Wipe a hand across my lids Turn the other cheek and keep on trucking. A lapsed Christian but a better one than you. You can keep your hell Since you seem so enamored of its flames. I’m a New England baby Born to long winters and cold springs Even if I do flame a bit now and then. My daily life may not be my own My afterlife, well it’s debatable, But my heart And my private life They’re mine And I will use them to love where I must And as I am moved And nothing you can do Or say No right you take away Or hold at bay Can change that reality. Now There is redemption.