July 2019

The Last Call of the Day

Why is it always the last call of the day,
Bag packed by the door, and sometimes I’ve even put my coat on,
And then I know that I have to make the call.If I was smart, I’d schedule a visit, have the nurse set up a time
To have the patient drop by after the test is done,
If only I was smart!But today it is too late for that, Friday night,
And a weekend of intolerable waiting for the patient,
So I make the call at half past 6.
The first ring means too late to hang up, the second ring raises hope that no one is home,
If I make it to the third ring, I start to rehearse a message,
But with the fourth ring, a soft voice breaks the silence.The answer is always cancer, it’s never the plague, or leprosy, or even a kidney stone,
Once in a while it’s HIV, and one time it was TB,
But cancer is the real answer.So I share the news, and I wait for the click
Of a dry tongue trying to form a response,
And …

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Creating Understanding

I was born a Brobdingnagian in a world of Lilliputians. As a child, I towered over my classmates, both female and male, and most of my teachers. Even as an adult, I stand out in a crow-and I hate it. Being tall has contributed to my psychological angst: it has given me a negative self-image; it has made me the victim of teasing (“How’s the weather up there?”); and it has made me feel like an outsider from mainstream society.

Being a part of the LGBTQ+ community may cause its population to feel a similar sense of isolation and depression. Or, it may not. I do not know. What I do know for certain, however, is that being different should be okay–and that no one, especially ourselves, should condemn us for not fitting some predetermined mold.

An Editor’s Invitation: LGBTQ+

When I was a freshman in college, my closest friend told me that he was pretty sure he was gay.
I was perplexed. I knew that gay men existed, but I’d never known one. (Of course I had; I just didn’t realize it.)
Not long after, my friend began a journey of exploration, of figuring out who he was–yes, he was gay–and I had the good sense to reserve judgment, to listen and learn, and to remain his friend. 
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"On Being Different"