(for Mike and Uncle Michael)

Fuck this new Black Death!
Why did you have to Die?
(I lost my friend to a four-letter word)
I hate that disease!
It killed my Mike, Her Mike, our Mike;
my love, my friend, my Rollingstone...
Hell never wander from the grave.

Buried in that bed that was your Prison
Surrounded by bars, but embraced by friends
who tried to free you, but couldn't...
So we brought you wildflowers...
leaves and weather,
tried to give you Spring...
You held on until the Winter,
and so did not die in the Cold.
Then you flew, finally.

Sometimes it's hard to believe
what we had to realize, months ago...
that we'd never be able to hold your hand again,
while we both cried
for lost Tomorrows
never again see your beautiful face glowing with Love
and that simple Joy in life that made you
a Singular Gem, in our eyes, and in the World
Never again touch you or hear your voice
laughing or weeping
or talking low and earnest...

One Word
spirited up from us on one Inferno-laden breath...
You went like a wraith...
you had no more strength
to grip the Earth, and stay from floating

and you Flew.
***

(and THAT is why I wear the red ribbon)

Tags: activism, aids, poetry
Currently Living In...: Olympia, WA
Fuzzy or Emo?: Sorrowful
Brought To You By:: "When Angels Cry" by Janis Ian

(For Michael)

Nineteen years old, that murdering Plague
burned you to death in the sunlight.
Your life was just starting to get on track
after years of running, hard on the streets...
You found a Home, and people who knew you
and knew how to Love.
An older brother for the one you lost,
and a father too, in one man.
Friends, a job, and all the answers...
and your strong, delicate songbird, who loves you
more than life.
As she proved it, again and again.
Acceptance from the world that used to spurn your tears.
And when all was going good, and you think,
Hey, maybe it's *my* turn...
Then It hit you; It hit all of us...
Like black lightening, made us blind...
It ravaged your body, one return
for all the careless sins of adolescence.
Who was there to care when you were running
when you were on the streets
exposed, shirtless, bare skin cold with fleeing to, and away?
Away from Everything and into Nothing
Uncaring like the world.
But here, in a town that Loved you, you hung on.
And we all understood, or came to understand,
and rallied behind you.
And She stood by you through it all...
It took your eyes, your youth, put out your Hope;
but you gave Hope back to us.
And It snuffed out your Love, and your glorious mind, finally...
like a greedy fire, It burned all your hard-won possessions...
Dignity, Trust, Belonging, and Love.
And as a last gift, you had to learn...
She burns with it too.
But no one lays the blame at your feet;
only at the feet of the whole World, at large.
You saw Her once clearly, before you left,
before you burned away...
Saw that She loves you, still and always.
We all do, and we won't forget.
It's been a year now, since we lost you to a crueler sun.
Mike, you are our Rollingstone; hang on until we get there, 'cos we love you,
and we learned things from your shining Heart of liquid Gold.
Nineteen years old, and killed by Love;
but Mike; we'll live with you forever.
***

(The first of many poems for Mike. He was my very dear friend, and the first person I ever knew who died from AIDS. Here I am crying again... People ask me why I bother to stand with my candle in the middle of winter for World AIDS Day on December 1st, why I join up every year for the Day of Silence... Well, it's for Mike...and all the friends and loves we've lost. *wiping her face* I love you, Mike!)

Tags: activism, aids, poetry
Currently Living In...: Olympia, WA
Fuzzy or Emo?: distressed
Brought To You By:: "When Angels Cry" by Janis Ian