This week’s Art Friday post is a poem written by Chris Ong, who participates in a few of our Ontario Generous Space groups. Here’s what he has to say about this poem:
Back when I first started to tell people that I was celibate, I got a lot of ‘interesting’ responses. Not many people understood why I was taking this path. This was something I wrote approximately 2 years ago to vent about how I was misunderstood and about how sometimes celibacy can be hard when there is a lack of support or committed friendship. I share my poetry over at my blog: https://livingink.wordpress.com.
by Chris Ong
Tell me, What does celibacy mean to you?
Does it mean immaturity?
A wild dog running far and free,
never to be tied down by anything,
Does it mean giving up?
A ship returning home from another failed expedition
torn sails and a breathless crew
unable to catch a second wind.
Does it mean a low libido?
A broken water heater that’s never been hot and bothered
because all it can give are cold showers.
No, I am not a dog, a tired ship, or a broken heater
I am human
but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way
sometimes celibacy is like a spare tire
always tagging along but never quite needed
A perfect third,fifth, or seventh wheel
playing the odd one out to smooth things over when someone goes flat.
a temporary solution,
not quite the right fit but good enough to drive on until you can get a replacement.
yes, sometimes celibacy is like a buoy
anchored but never to find a harbour,
always swaying with the tides,
trying to keep my head above the water as friends pass me by like ships in the night
a life filled with beautiful if not fleeting encounters that I am all the more thankful for during my darkest nights
Although ships may wander,
Oh how I long to know the places you will go and things you will see.
because I grew up hearing nothing but fairy tales
so I only learned how to live someone else’s story
and I don’t quite know how to live as a single person.
Sometimes celibacy is like a pair of blistered hands
Damaged from always being the willing fool.
Ready to catch any sparks that fly between good friends
knowing that sparks will always remain sparks
knowing that I will always love you from afar
knowing that all I will ever get is burnt out.
but I hold my hands out proud any ways
ready to catch any glimmer of light that comes falling down.
ready to love those who need it.