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Some day, you will meet a person with whom you will bear your scars to.
You will show them the healed up scabs, and the still open wounds.
You will show them the healed up scabs, and the still open wounds.
They in turn will bear theirs.
Not in order to see who has suffered more.
Not to decide on who makes for a better martyr.
But to take shelter, together, in the living defiance of your past traumas.
But to take shelter, together, in the living defiance of your past traumas.
And you become bonded in your survival.
Even if your interaction is brief, even if you grow apart.
A part of you will always remember the scars swapped with another.
That is what community means to me.
That is what being Queer means to me.
Not the scars, not the depth nor breadth of the scars either.
But the release that is only found through reflecting together.
And the shared language that is this reflection.
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