I will be voting in favor of gay marriage come Election Day. Here are my sentiments on the subject in poetry form.
Ah, this too shall pass —
all the fuss about marriage.
Cast to the dogs everyday — that institution —
by married men and women —
fighting over children
like dogs barking over bones —
fighting over house keys, car keys,
bank accounts —
airing tons of grievances
for onlookers and lawyers
as spectator sport before
laying to rest in divorce caskets
their vows —
"In sickness and in health,
for better or worse,
for richer or poorer,"
a bunch of lies rolled
out for the ceremonies in church.
Like God is watching! Yeah!
What God wants to waste His precious time
on man or for that matter woman.
Isn't God above poking His nose —
in the carnal holes
where men explore their ephemeral pleasures?
Should be! I'd like to think —
if there indeed is a God — that God is no voyeur.
He hasn't written the rules of engagement
behind bedroom doors
between man and woman,
man and man,
or woman and woman.
God does not care — I should hope —
to micromanage the sexual proclivities of humans
and the preponderance of evidence suggests
we are pretty much on our own,
in the matter of whom we love and why we prefer
one gender over another —
that was written in stone,
not according to a chapter or verse from a Holy Book,
but according to science
we're the creatures of the hormones
we met within our mothers —
so why do we give our brothers and sisters
such hell when they are drawn to someone
of their own gender — and why do we spin
such acrimony against them — as would shame God —
if there indeed is a God — it should —
that the most confused and confounded among us
would assume the precarious position
of interpreter for God
condemning forefinger pointed
as proxy for God — the most dogmatic among us —
would claim to know how God thought or thinks —
what a sad mess for God —
what an embarrassment —
as He on a long vacation from the foolishness of men
wanders among the stellar hatcheries bewitched
by His own handiwork — if He doesn't He should —
if He isn't He should be — far from the madding crowd — God!
Usha Nellore, Bel AirCopyright © 2014, The Baltimore Sun