When I saw you
from across the room
high-five your conspirators,
the simmer of my sadness
escalated into a boiling frenzy.
What audacity … to celebrate
at the funeral of my beloved,
to dance on graves and marble stones
that ripple and repeat on rolling hills.
While I grieve for her and them,
I grieve more for all of us
and what will come next.
Yes, I am down … gutted really.
But I am still out and
I am determined to rise up.
I still have my past and present,
even if I don’t know my future.
I still have my passion.
I still have my chosen family.
I still have my truth.
I still have my identity.
I still have my voice.
Mark Johnson Stories 
That’s a beautiful poem!
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Thank you, Aiva.
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You are welcome, Mark. I hope all is well xx
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Doing my best to cope. The writing helps.
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Thank you for sharing your stories, Mark! I’ll be sharing with my family members including my gay granddaughter, and great-nieces! I’m so thankful for your continued presence
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Sending hugs just for you, Kathy.
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Mark I’m glad you are using your writing talent to channel your emotions.
Its a beautiful piece.
Keep it up; it’s constructive and healthy 🙂
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Thank you, Tom.
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Yes, you do have those things and the love and support of your many friends.
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I know. It helped to write it out, Carol. 🫂
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Love this, Mark! See you in December!
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Thank you … that’s great, Kath!
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