celebrating and creating our own LGBT history in honour of Sheila McWattie

day sixteen

Sometimes my home is a precarious place,

An uncertain structure,

Crumbling and creaking at every stormy hit.

 

this home of mine endures

 

Sometimes my home is magnificent

and makes me proud.

It cushions me against onslaught and hurt.

 

this home of mine evolves.

 

My home is a sanctuary

Always open to others,

Despite every failure it has never failed.

 

This home of mine is steadfast

 

This home is my body

My temple

This home is my heart.

 

 

Megan Williams (age 64) Wales

 

 

 

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day fifteen

 

The front door slams shut

and the warmth of the heat flushes his cheeks.

The wine sloshes into the glass.

 

The purr of the zip sliding closed as the breeze is temporarily blocked.

Still too cold to take off his hat.

A tug of the ring pull to open the can.

The covers flap and shuffle in the wind.

He draws them over his rough stubble on his cold and weary body.

He reaches for another can.

Our ‘homes’ are so different but are we?

 

 

 

 

Anne Lamb (51) Palm Bay

day fourteen

Come nuh. Come mek we watch.Tallawa.

Seet deh, how we rumble tumble back black inna we love.

Tek of we hat, boot and glove.

Nyam till we belly full. Returning. Renewed.

 

 

 

Jo Fraser, London

day thirteen

Hallowe’en 1987

 

the tartan flash of your scarf as you appeared at the top of the platform at Euston

the beam of your smile as you ran towards me

hurtling a trolley to scoop up all my worldy possessions

crammed in cardboard boxes

 

the look of sheer delight across your face as you held my face

and we kissed

a long deep kiss

 

and a warm knowing glow hummed between us

as we took the first steps to setting up home together

sharing the weight of the wobbly trolley

up the sloping platform.

 

 

 

Fiona Thomson (age 58) Margate

day twelve

I’d know the split in the road

Gear down the confluence of valleys

Tighter grip to take the bend

His compression brakes and ring the bell twice for last homeward stops of excited moments to an ending.

This fortress, cloaks and shields.

Where we lay ourselves bare.

Front door, family, heat, quiet, company sometimes.

Cooking, home-cooking.

 

 

A collective piece by:

Janet Jones (age 54) Halifax

Nicola (age 48) Shoreham

Davinia (age 40) Shoreham

Tracey Daley (age 53) Hackney

 

day eleven

 

I’d know the split in the road

Gear down the confluence of valleys

Tighter grip to take the bend

His compression brakes and ring the bell twice for last homeward stops of excited moments to an ending.

This fortress, cloaks and shields.

Where we lay ourselves bare.

 

 

 

a collective effort by:

Janet Jones (age 54) Halifax

Nicola 48 Shoreham

Davinia 40 Shoreham

 

 

day ten

Ride

 

I’d know the split in the road

Gear down the confluence of valleys

Tighter grip to take the bend

His compression brakes and ring the bell twice for last homeward stops of

excited moments to an ending.

 

 

Janet Jones (age 54) Halifax