What's Left Of a Rainbow?

When the June heat subsides

And the feeling of euphoria dies.

When streets are no longer filled with cheers,

And no music left to fill our ears.

Stray sequins litter the streets;

Remnants of joy and exaltation.

Marching along to an individualistic beat;

Embracing what remains of a nationwide union.

What happens after the parade?

When people's interest in us begins to fade?

When the rainbow begins to bleed,

Infringing on the lives of those who, for a month, followed our lead.

The glitter left behind

Doesn't mend the scars

Of fearing for our lives

And hiding from our hearts.

The return to normal lives,

Without a trace of the past month's celebrations:

"We've given you a month to thrive,

Now let us return to our own fixations."

But what happens after the parade?

When the debt of oppression has supposedly been repaid.

When our colors can no longer be used for commercialized gain,

There comes death to our rainbow campaign.

There comes a feeling of abandonment

When the crowds begin to disperse.

Most feel their months-worth of effort is adequate,

Ignorant to the other 11 months now running their course.

The post-pride depression comes to fruition,

And reintegration becomes the new challenge.

The unified community we all envisioned

Is decimated by reality's unforgiving talons.

But what happens after the parade?

When you can no longer embrace your true identity?

Once marching as the majority - unafraid.

Now suffering from emotional brevity.

The parade is done - This is the after.

We received our month of affirmation and are left with a memento

Of everything we're missing every other month of the year

And our failure to match everyone else's tempo.