A Poem for Rachel Crites

And she said,
“Wherever I end up laying . . .
I want to stay with my true love . . .
With my true love . . .
Next to her.”

She said:

“This is my choice.”
She said.
“This is my choice.”
“I’m sorry.”

And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for every sorry time you had to hear “gay” like it was something bad.
I’m sorry for every sorry time they called you dyke and didn’t mean that you were fierce, and strong, and true to loving women.
I’m sorry for the sorry Catholic church that called you a sinner.
I’m sorry for all the sorry teachers who never taught you how natural, how normal it is for women to love women and for girls to love girls, and that many of the most brilliant, most daring, most courageous women in history were lesbians.

I’m sorry.

And if it was up to me,
I would bury you,
Bury you with your true love,
And her with you.

And I’m sorry for the suffocation
That had nothing to do with CO2.
And I’m sorry for the long, slow freezing
That had nothing to do with temperature.
And I’m sorry they took so long,
Took too long,
To locate you.

Because they’ll never find you now.

And if it was up to me,
I would bury you,
Bury you with your true love,
And her with you.

And on the stone, I’d carve
Your last words
In deep granite gashes,
Too deep to wear away,

Those sorry words
You left
To a sorry world
Rachel, I would carve,

“I’m sorry.”

Copyright 2007 Carolyn Gage, www.carolyngage.com