*WHISPERS*
                            *By GILDA LILY*
 
     The whispers follow us
                            Everywhere we go:
                            The Precinct,
                            The Consulate,
                     Even into
                            Our home.
 
                     We smile, and grasp
                            One another's hand,
                            Shutting them out
                            As we shut the door.
 
                            But the pain
                            Is still here.
 
                            Out in the world,
                            We hear the questions:
 
                           "Why must they flaunt it?"
                           "Why don't they just
                            Keep quiet about
                            Their perversion?"
 
                            The statements:
 
     "I don't care what
                             They do, as long
                             As they don't do it
                             In front of me."
 
                             "Some of my
                              Best friends
                              Are gay, but
                              I can't approve
                              Of what they do."
 
                             "What a waste."
 
                             "Isn't that sick?
                              They want to get
                              *Married!*
                              What is this world
                              Coming to?"
 
 
                              "Homosexuality
                               Is wrong..."
                               Disgusting..."
                               Perverted..."
 
        Do they know
                               What they do to us?
                               Do they know
                               How they hurt us?
                               Do they care?
 
                               Ray says no,
                               But I must
                               Continue to believe
                               That if our tormenters
                               Knew what they were doing
                               They would stop,
                               And leave us in peace.
 
                               Because, as sure as
                               My blood is Canadian,
                               I will never stop
                               Loving my man.
 
        Touching him,
                               Kissing him,
                               Parting my legs,
                               To welcome him
                               Into me.
                        Crave to bury
                               Myself hilt-deep
                               Into him.
                               Share our tears
                               Of joy,
                               Share a sweet kiss.
 
                               Please,
                               Just let us be
                               Happy.
 
                               Is that so much
                               To ask?
 
 
 
 

 jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com

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