A Memory in the Wrong Shoes (A Haibun for Pride Month)

Our friends got married in June, their true real love made legal at last. And we were there, their people, all of us cheers and smiles and hugs and holding fast our hopes for a brighter tomorrow, as the One World spire lit up the gibbous sky in rainbows. And my toes, oh my toes.

Pride by the water
Two sweet lovers said I do
I wore the wrong shoes

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This is a poem for Rebecca’s May/June poetry challenge over at Fake Flamenco – to capture an imperfect moment in a haibun. (I’m bending her rules just a little bit, by about 15 words. I hope she doesn’t mind.)

It’s also a true story, and a celebration, a lamentation, a statement of support and hope. We aren’t where we were, back in 2016 when Graham and I attended this beautiful wedding of two very dear friends – not least because I now refuse to wear high heels – but we aren’t, as a society, where we’ll end up either. I have to believe that. I have to believe we’ll do better. I have to believe it for all the people I love who love each other but are afraid, for the people I love who can’t be their whole selves without fear and just live every day like everyone else.

You never have to be afraid with me, and I will always have a safe space for you in my heart and in my home. I’m proud of you. And I love you for exactly who you’ve always been meant to be.

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