42 Degrees

When light enters a water droplet,

it slows

and it bends.

When light exits a water droplet,

it leaves behind a rainbow.

Light exits at exactly an angle of 42 degrees:

always precise,

never an accident,

never a choice.

And it is beautiful.

I am being of droplets.

I am not whole when within water, I am water.

In astrology, they call me a Pisces.

Scientifically, 60% of my body is water.

31% of my bones.

73% of my heart & brain.

83% of my lungs.

I feel the water in my bones,

my heart,

my brain.

Some days, I feel it in my lungs, too.

Some days 83% might actually be 93, 95, 99

Some days my lungs are too full, I open my mouth for words and out comes:

water.

The light has hit some of us.

It is always precise- we are precise;

never an accident,

never a choice.

And it is beautiful. We are beautiful.

Some people walk the earth at a 90 degree angle.

Most of society tells us to assume we do, too.

I walk the earth at a 42 degree angle.

My being never shifted from 90 to 42, only my knowing did.

I thought I was just a shaky 90.

I thought walking at 90 degrees came more easily for others, or they faked it well,

I thought I would learn.

But at some point,

Like the light,

I slowed

and I bent,

and then I knew:

I exist at 42 degrees.

I don’t claim the rainbow simply because we exist at the same angle,

Rather I yearn for all the colors that those at 90 degrees have never considered a life without:

I want the yellow explosion that sends chills through your whole body when you hold hands for the first time

I want the soft lavender of a lazy day spent in bed together

I want the deep reds of a passionate kiss

I want the cool blue ease of being introduced as a couple

And I want the all the most vibrant of colors on my wedding day, the kind of vibrancy that life at 90 degrees has always known. The kind that celebrates love so loud, you can’t help but to smile as your whole body fills with an erupting orange joy

I want to live a life of color-

without hesitation,

without dilution,

without blending.

Just being.

So we walk as rainbows with light through our droplets - our hearts, minds, skin, and bones. And our lungs.

And we scream it through our drenched mouths with the light piercing through. And it comes out in waves of color.

Because we must exist in the colors we want to live within.

To be queer in America - to be queer in this world - is to have faith in the rainbow appearing after the storm.

It is to believe, despite what anyone says, that life at 42 degrees:

is always precise,

never an accident,

never a choice.

But full of color.

And beautiful.

It is beautiful.