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Please begin with an informative title:


I should be good at it by now.  I have decades of experience.

The time floats on, those minutes fly by
You wanna go, but just you try, guy
You wanna see her
You wanna see her, oh yeah
So you wait, you wait and wait
Girl don't come
In my case, "you want to be her" were the words in my ears...for years and years and years.  But the words have often been slightly wrong.

So the waiting goes on.

Keep waiting.  Our hopes and dreams will be fulfilled...some day.

Someday soon.  Just you wait.


You must enter an Intro for your Diary Entry between 300 and 1150 characters long (that's approximately 50-175 words without any html or formatting markup).

Originally posted at Docudharma

When I was young, I ran from danger, from having to be a soldier, from having to kill.  And I ran from responsibility...for awhile.  Many of us went in search of ourselves.  I mostly discovered that I was missing.

Maybe I was even running from myself.  

When I was younger so much younger than today
I never needed anybody's help in any way.
Well, probably I did.  But I didn't know where to turn, so help was effectively non-existent.

So I was waiting, but I wasn't certain what I was waiting for.  It could have been an end.  It could have been a beginning.  Life happens when one is waiting.  Stuff happened indeed.  My wife-to-be became pregnant.

Wait a few decades.  You have responsibilities now...a daughter to raise...a wife to support.  Military service to perform as an alternative to prison.

School to attend...students to teach...a place in the world to maintain.  

I was a lonely soul
I had nobody till I met you
But you keep-a me waitin'
All of the time
What can I do?

It's your life
And you can do what you want
Do what you like
But please don't keep-a me waitin'
Please don't keep-a me waitin'

Wait a decade, until the parents are dead.  Wait another decade until the daughter is through with school and moved away...until tenure is earned.  Hope for some semblance of stability.

And then after the change, wait for people to adapt.  Things will get better.  Really and truly.  And when you discover...after another six to eight years...that they haven't, finally try to move on with your life.

It's a hard world to get a break in
All the good things have been taken
But girl there are ways to make certain things pay
Though I'm dressed in these rags, I'll wear sable some day

Hear what I say
I'm gonna ride the serpent
No more time spent sweatin' rent
Hear my command
It ain't no use, I'm breakin' loose,
Holdin' me down, stick around

Contemporaneously with the personal is the political.  As if they are ever separate.  The message from all directions has the same sound: it is not time yet.  Teach and teach and teach some more.

And wait...amidst mostly disappointment.

And be told not enough education has been done.  So teach some more.

And wait...listening.

Listening for the words not said.

we ask you to help us work for that day
when black will not be asked to get back
when brown can stick around
when yellow will be mellow
when the red man can get ahead, man
and when white will embrace what is right
when gay will be okay
Let all those who do justice
and love mercy say amen.
Words not said.  Let the waiting continue.  Waiting for justice and mercy...or something like it.

Waiting and hoping.  Helplessly hoping.

We are one person.
We are two alone.
We are three together.
We are for each other.
Helplessly hoping for that to come true.


Any day.

Any day now.

Be patient.  It will only be a little while.  You can wait.

The question presents itself, difficult to avoid no matter how busy one tries to keep oneself.

What next?

Work twelve hour days, four days a week, wondering...wondering.  Dreaming of better days.

What should we do while we wait?  Is there no way we can hurry equality along?

Happily for everyone, make no mistake, we wait...for some sign...any sign.

Assurances only go so far.  Plans are nice...but concrete change is better.  So we wait...and wait...an wait.  And we hope and we pray that someday, before too long, our day will come.

Meanwhile...what next?  What do we do to hasten the arrival of that day...if not for us, then for those who travel behind us?

Measuring Time

The tick tick tick of time
registers the seconds and minutes
hours and days
years and decades
of lost youth
years spent unfrugally
for the benefit of others
more important than me
or so it seemed

Poe's pendulum swings
measuring the beat beat beat
of my heart
as time ebbs away
compressing my future
and the hope
of hearing Freedom's ring
signally the day
when being gay will be okay

--Robyn Elaine Serven
--May 28, 2008

Extended (Optional)

Originally posted to Robyn's Perch on Fri Jan 23, 2009 at 04:26 PM PST.

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