a poem about love

“Thank you for loving me…

A series of monologues.

Just the way I am.

You don’t need to thank me.

I do though. In all my hardness, and excessiveness,

you have accepted me. And made me feel loved and cared for.

You are, because of those features. They’re not bugs.

They sure feel like ’em sometimes.

I know. They’re not.



Thank you for loving me.

You gave me a chance, when others didn’t.

You never game up on me. And that gives me hope.

Thank you for loving me. Especially when you show me a way.

Not the, but a. What would I do without you both?

Thank you for loving me. I owe it all to you.

Someday, I’ll repay you.


You never gave up.

Even when things got unbearable and lonely.

You kept them all close.

Thanks for that.

Thank you.”



More and more of what I feel the urge to write seems to be influenced by what I’m reading or drawn to reading. Currently, I’m reading Connected Worlds, a book co-edited by Ann Curthoys and Marilyn Lake. In the first chapter there is a section called ‘Paths not yet taken, voices not yet heard: rethinking Atlantic history.’ It speaks of the need to “think beyond the often Anglo-American Atlantic World” by examining it from different perspectives.

For instance, the lives of people in certain communities extend far beyond the nation-based narratives to which many historians are bound. What I intend on doing with this series of monologues then is to simply share my truth and my stories; in the hopes that I can connect with the truths of others that are unconnected, and not yet heard like Dem’s.