the seat I inhabit
a bit uncomfortably
periodically made harder
or minimally softer
never just right
sitting here in this place of dimmed visibility/ shaded light
I have always been queer
yet never fully embracing that word
once wielded like a dagger
used to diminish
admonish
and shame

I feel most at ease in queer space all the same
kinked with complexity
complicated and messed
my mothering and the road that let me here is fabulously crooked at best
side lined and pitfalled
circuitously redirected far and near
children not of my flesh, but still right here
chosen family transcending any and all binaries
showing up/ showing out
family fashioned from prayed possibilities

mama bell (hooks) taught me well
“‘Queer' not as being about who you're having sex with
(that can be a dimension of it);
but 'queer' as being about the self that is at odds with everything around it
and that has to invent
and create
and find a place to speak and to thrive and to live.”
this is exactly what my queer mothering strives to give
invention beyond reflection
creating both effect and cause
at odds but not against
speaking ceaselessly without pause
let them look upon my queer mothering with awe
complicating and re-evaluating what ‘they’ see and saw

queer is here to be embraced and to shout
for the assigned and designated month
and the year on out
“…at odds with everything…” that overshadows true pride
for my queerness
for my mothering
my devotion to both
devout
ceasing to subside