Seattle 35, or New Poem for Pride Month - from Iwps preliminary

To the new parents at the PFLAG meeting:

Mary Oliver said “you do not have to be good.”
She was right. You do not have to march on your knees in a pride parade;
nor do you have to invite their lovers to your funerals,
or remember them on their birthdays.

If you are the parent of a queer child,
you will not be punished for casting them out.
No one will arrest you for the exorcisms or threats,
no one will fault you for your shame.

If you have a god, surely you will find
some way to make peace with these decisions.

You can tell yourself
that your children will end up in the hell they deserve,
or that it’s just a phase,
or that you are willing to help them get better.
Whatever you tell yourself about this, do not call it good.

If it helps to know,
many of our parents have chosen to be good, to
practice the art of loving
the way they once did violin, or fishing, or cursive.
If you choose this path, have patience.
You will not be good, at first.

Your children may not thank you for the effort.
You may remember that they also
did not thank you for changing their diapers.

Practice love with the same care
with which you once practiced holding a plastic doll
or a paper sack of flour in anticipation of their arrival.
Protective. Caring.
The feel of a fontanel under your fingertips.

We are still your babies.
Remembering this is crucial to your practice.

If you should find yourself crying,
screaming red and utterly confused,
remember that this is normal.
Remember their births,
how they came crying,
screaming red,
betrayal on their faces.

Remember what you said:
welcome to this knifepoint asphalt world, sapling.
I am your gardener.
I'm here to help you grow.