What Brings Us Together

White like my baptism,

8 years old and committed to the church.

White like my wedding dress should be,

when I one day marry a man like they said

in a white temple.

Red like my mother when she argued

I had no reason to be depressed

when the doctor gave me that diagnosis,

age 15.

Red like my boyfriend when he got mad,

which was often.

Age 18.

Red when he did things without my consent –

Red that I still had to repent

instead of heal.

Red like my parents when I came out as gay;

they say it’s a bad example.

Age 20.

Orange when I went on a mission for my church,

age 19.

Orange while I tried to pray the gay away,

orange when I came home 9 months later.

Orange when I chose my life and sanity over the church.

Yellow when I first kissed a girl,

age 19.

Yellow when I first fell in love.

Yellow like the sun in June, age 20.

Yellow like the flowers I bought her;

like the sunshine warmth I felt holding her hand.

Yellow feeling comfortable with myself again.

Green meeting new friends

and making new memories.

Green like Green Day and dancing in the kitchen;

like playing in the grass with my niece.

Green like going and going and going –

because stopping means red again,

or worse.

What if I stop and feel blue?

Blue in December, when I realized

she didn’t love me back.

Blue cause she made me feel like she did.

Blue when I let her go,

age 21.

Blue when I’m with my family

and feel the disappointment in the air,

thicker than gray nicotine smoke

when I’m all alone.

But purple –

Purple is my favorite color.

Purple like peace with myself,

like deep talks with good friends.

Amethyst purple hanging from my neck,

lavender purple candles during yoga.

Pretty purple like feeling confident;

purple being vulnerable.

Purple being genuine.

The colors all blend together for me,

and connect me to others

who have had similar experiences

in a tie-dyed rainbow mess.

Empathy and validation bring people together;

it connects us in intimate ways.

I wish some of these things made me unique,

because I wouldn’t wish the hard parts on anyone.

But so many have endured the same

in their own ways.

What makes me unique is the same

as what makes me so much like others –

being able to relate.

Being here and listening in all the chaos

for the people like me

who need a hand, or a heart

or an ear or a hug.

Because the things that make us most unique

can be the things that bring us closest together.