There’s a skeleton in my closet

When Robin and I had our first date, I tested him. I’d witnessed the homophobia of someone close to me and didn’t like it. In the circle of my beloved friends are men and women who are gays and lesbians. Their sexuality is immaterial to me. What’s important is their hearts.

By the time I met Robin, I figured I was too old to spend time with anyone who couldn’t see beyond labels. We were having a wonderful conversation when I let go of the test balloon.

I told him about the lesbian couple who had given me a home when I was in transition, when my wings were broken, and I couldn’t fly.

I watched his face. If he showed repugnance, I would thank him politely for the evening and cross him off my list of potential friends.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “My daughter is a lesbian.”

Test over, we became friends. Now we share our lives. I never had children, but Robin’s daughter, Michelle, is one of the beautiful young women who enrich me beyond measure.

This is her poem.

by Michelle Jarman

There are skeletons in my closet
A dried up pile of bones;
There are skeletons in my closet
That no one really owns.
I don’t know how they got there
Or even who it is;
There are skeletons in my closet
Are they hers or are they his?

Skeleton

Suspended Skeleton, by Shawn Allen on Flickr

Sometimes I hear them dancing
Tap tapping on the floor;
Those skeletons in my closet
Is there one or maybe more?
Sometime I hear them laughing
Teeth clanging up and down;
The skeletons in my closet
Seem to hardly ever frown.

Sometimes I hear them singing
Their songs are silly and gay;
The skeletons in my closet
Have an awful lot to say.
I sit alone and wonder
Would they be a friend to me?
But I’m afraid of seeing skeletons
Whoever they may be.

I pretend I cannot hear them
Dancing, laughing or their song
I hope they stay inside my closet
Right where skeletons belong
I go about my usual day
Forgetting about those bones
But at night I hear them full of fun
While I am all alone.

I dare not open the closet door
For fear of what I’ll find
I’ll keep myself just wondering
‘bout those skeletons in my mind.

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5 comments for “There’s a skeleton in my closet

  1. Michelle
    May 19, 2010 at 5:21 pm

    I’m claiming the cupid title!! 🙂 Thank you Cathryn, for sharing my poem with your blog readers. And thank you for being the spirit and soul mate my Dad has longed for. And thank you for beautiful and open heart. You inspire me to be the best person for myself and for the earth I live on. xoxox Michelle

  2. Burton
    May 19, 2010 at 8:59 pm

    I really love Michelle’s Poem.
    I got to thinking about that and I think we all have “closets” of some kind or another. But when I visualize my own “closets” I see skeletons wearing my old clothes, – well maybe that’s “baggage”. Time to clean out the closet or move. (moving doesn’t work; we always manage to bring our “closet” with us). When all along, I only had to do is turn on the “light” and be enlightened. ( just thinking out loud.)
    ….ß

  3. May 19, 2010 at 9:26 pm

    Thanks for this, Burton. You’re right. We all have skeletons and closets. Your take on it gives me something to chew on and mull over.

  4. Hylton Harrington
    May 21, 2010 at 5:36 pm

    I think I must have done something good in my life to have a person like you as a friend!

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