queer-jew-writes

[queer-jew-writes]

the darkest day

the air is a bitter, biting cold 

wind swaying half-frozen rain through the trees

the days are dark and bleak

daylight recedes 

to the far away places

places that we can only reach in our dreams about warmer weather

the days are short

filled with this seemingly never-ending hopelessness

when you can’t tell if its the middle of the night or five in the afternoon

the sun feels like it may never rise again 

like its stuck just behind the horizon

just out of reach

like the light of a dying star in its final moments

the winter has gone on for an eternity

time has lost all meaning 

the days blend together is this dark cold slurry

and sometimes we worry

 that it will never end 

it will be this lifeless and bleak forever

the darkness will reign a thousand years

but the solstice has come and gone

light creeps in minutes earlier in the morning

it recedes minutes later in the afternoon

the days

still cold and bleak and short and lifeless

glimmer with five minutes of hope

the warm light has started to linger

longer

not sure its quite ready to go

grasping clawing holding on for life

for a few more minutes everyday 

before the darkness settles like a blanket over the world again

and spring will come again

#cayden poetry #december 2023

[queer-jew-writes]

"We'll always love you but we will never support you"

as if there can be any love without support

as if saying I love you while driving a knife into someone's chest makes it true

As if saying I love you alone is enough to prove it

I love you so much! That I would never do anything for you

I love you so much! That I'll tell you every chance I get how disappointed it makes me to see you happy

I love you so much! When you're pretending to be who I want you to be

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

like ordering a package and getting an empty fucking box in the mail instead

how do you love me if you hate everything about me?

perhaps they don't know what it means to love

because if they did

they would know they never loved me

#cayden poetry

[queer-jew-writes]

When I moved out of my parents house and into my grandparents house at 17, one of the first things that I did was buy these two massive boxes of puzzles from this elderly couple on facebook marketplace. I saw the listing and couldn't believe the price, 5$ for hundreds of puzzles. When my grandpa, Pepper, drove me to go pick them up, in the middle of a thunderstorm, the boxes were so big and so heavy that they barely fit in our car. We were soaked head to toe from the rain by the time that we actually got them to fit.  He had to help me carry them in the house, and I spent hours just going through the boxes. 

A lot of the puzzles were in bad shape. They'd clearly been loved for decades and then stored somewhere where they accidentally got water damage, and that's why the couple was selling them. They looked like they were carefully collected through a lifetime of garage sales and flea markets, and there were puzzles from as far back as the 60's in these boxes. 

I'd bought them because I've always loved puzzles. They've always been a special interest of mine, and even before buying those boxes I had quite a collection, with dozens of puzzles in all different styles. Me and my grandma, Sedra, used to put them together when I was a kid and I've loved them ever since. So I bought them with the hope that at least a few were salvageable to be put together despite the water damage and mold, but going through those boxes was unlike what I had ever expected. Most of the puzzles had little hand written notes on the boxes. There were two distinctive handwritings on the boxes, and two names that kept showing up over and over again. There's one note I remember in particular that really helped me to see the beautiful story that I was witnessing. I've forgotten the names, so I'll use place holders. 

In the first handwriting it said, "Chris 2hr 24min- Beat That!" and right below, in the second handwriting it said, "Eleanor 1hr 58min- Love you anyways <3" and the boxes were covered in little notes like that. Some had just the times it had taken them to finish it, some had both of their names and a single time because they'd done the puzzle together, some had the date or year that they bought and finished it, some puzzles had the number of times that they had put it together. Going through these boxes felt like I was putting together the story of their lives, and having to get rid of some of them due to mold and severe water damage was devastating. 

When I finally got to the second massive box, towards the bottom, there were tons of kids puzzles for a bunch of different ages and interests. I started crying when I saw the first box that had the woman's name beside a kids messy scrawled handwriting of their own name, and I've cried dozens of times from these boxes, their story, and how much they've grown to mean to me too in the years since buying them. I actually called my partner crying  as I was going through these boxes to tell them about how tangible the love and joy was. I felt like I was watching the couple fall in love through these puzzles, and then watching them share that joy with their kids, or maybe their grandkids. Sedra never enjoyed puzzles very much and she's never been very good at them, but seeing the kid puzzles reminded me of how much love and joy we shared when we did used to do kid puzzles together. I quickly outgrew her skill level and went on to do more challenging ones by myself, but I'll never forget that she's the reason I have this love of puzzles in the first place. 

One of my all time favorite puzzles was in that box, and I've put it together a few times over the past 4 years since getting it. It's a thousand piece puzzle that shows a collage of old mismatched buttons sitting on a table. It took my days to finish, and when I finally did I wrote my own little note on it. "Bought from Chris and Eleanor 2019 - Cayden 6 days" I hope that one day people feel the joy and love in these puzzles from my part of their story too, and I've started writing little notes on all of my puzzles when I finish them now. 

A lot of the puzzles, of course, were missing so many pieces that it would have been impossible to put them together. There was one that I'd counted that had 95 pieces when it was supposed to be a 1500 piece puzzle, and several more just like that. I got rid of a few of those that were in worse condition, and kept a few of them to make some art out of because I couldn't stand the thought of just getting rid of them. I haven't gotten around to making the art out of them yet because I'm not feeling too inspired living with my grandparents right now, but I will get to it at some point. 

A few weeks back I tried to make a timeline of my life and all I could think about was those puzzles that were missing so many pieces I couldn't make sense of them. I saw a tiktok that was talking about the difference between childhood trauma that causes memory loss and normal childhood memory loss, and the woman had said that people without childhood trauma can make a cohesive narrative of their childhood, with a few details from each year. Stuff like what they were learning in school, what friends they had, where they lived. I know that I have memory loss from childhood trauma and I knew before I even started that I wouldn't be able to make a cohesive timeline, but when I started trying to it was even harder and worse than I thought it would be. This is what that timeline looked like, exactly. 

[Image ID: A piece of notebook paper in a spiral notebook. The piece of paper is turned horizontally with the spiral and holes at the top of the page. The timeline typed below is written in messy handwriting alone the page. End ID]

My handwriting is bad at the best of times, let alone when I'm heavily dissociating and upset, so I'll go ahead and type that timeline too. 

1-4: pre-k?

5?: Maybe Travis [my half brother] moved in?

6:

7:

8: cheersport?

9:

10:

11: Living in Thomson house; self harming; relationship with Travis; alcoholism; anxiety

12: Living in Burke County?; gay; self harming; eating disorder; thinking of running away

13: Living with Sedra? [my grandma]

14:

15: Moved to Pelion; highschool; gore; abuse

16:

I actually tried to put together what was left of the pieces in one of those puzzles that was missing hundreds one time. I was an exhausting and frustrating endeavor that I have never even thought about trying again since. I spent hours looking at the pieces and back at the box and back at the pieces, just trying to see if any of the ones I had even looked like they might go together. In the end, I think I ended up with four pieces put together total. I couldn't tell where in the picture they belonged, and if I hadn't had the box, I wouldn't have known what it was even supposed to be. 

When I tried to make this cohesive timeline of my childhood, it felt exactly the same. All I could think about while I was trying to make it was that one time when I tried to put the puzzle together. I keep looking and looking for pieces that just weren't there. I tried going through my journals, I tried going through the pictures of me and my family in my phone, but nothing came of it. I started crying because it was so upsetting to not know practically anything that's happened in my own life except for trauma. Of course, I have more memories than just the ones that I put in the timeline, but I couldn't put them in chronological order, or any kind or order, and they're far and inbetween. Just like that puzzle, I have a lot of pieces but not nearly enough to make a picture. 

#tw abuse #tw self h4rm

[queer-jew-writes]

there is comfort in the way the anger feels

boiling just to the edge

burning

screaming

searing

a rage that could destroy

but you can only hold on to it for so long

before it slips through your fingers like every good memory you've ever had

anger is survival

anger is hiding

anger is safety

but what's left when you can only be angry at yourself?

all the rage in the world won't bring you home

but home is all I've ever wanted to be

[queer-jew-writes]

The irreconcilable pieces of the self

There are pieces of me that I have left in every place I have ever been

Fragments that get stuck in the carpet, in the floorboards, anywhere there is an untouched place of refuge

My ghosts snake their way into the concrete foundations

A little girl's voice echoes from the dark of the closet

from the stairwell

from underneath the beds

from the old rotting treehouse that was there before me

And I want to reach through time and offer her my hand

but she could not rest then

and she will not rest now

There are pieces of me that I have left in every place I have ever been

There's a teenage boy stuck looking out the window

basking in the street light

packed bag clutched close to his chest

Tonight Tonight Tonight he repeats

The streetlight glows brighter than the moon, a warm loving light

he almost falls into its embrace

but the miles of cold darkness are a little less welcoming

And I want to reach through time and open the window just a crack

enough to know the air was safe

but he did not leave then

and he won't leave now

And there is a teenage boy forever pacing a yard

his tears falling like rain on the grass

pacing pacing pacing desire paths into the dirt

he's trying to get away but he always ends up back at the start

And I want reach through time and hand him a flashlight, tell him to keep going

but he was scared then

and sometimes he's still scared now

And there is a teenage boy trapped

stood in place

fight flight or freeze and he freezes

vines slithering up his legs

cementing his feet to the ground

roots digging deeper and deeper in a place where nothing can grow

And there is a teenage boy screaming

at his parents

at his teachers

at his friends

at anyone in the world brave enough to listen

Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you

And he sobs and pounds his fists against the walls

demanding to be heard this time

and he reaches through time

his voice cracking, tears forming in his eyes

and he asks

"Is it ever worth it?"

And I grab his hands in mine with all the beauty and kindness of hindsight,

It's almost over

It's worth it, please it's worth it

And I hope he can hear me

#cayden poetry

[queer-jew-writes]

The revolution is now. Things are changing.

In Tennessee, there were protests about gun control after yet another mass shooting in a school. Hundreds if not thousands of kids showed up to the house of representatives to protest and demand gun control for automatic rifles. "You ban books, you ban drag, but kids are still in body bags." The absolute power of 10,000 kids and adults lining the halls of a government building chanting that was enough to send chills down my spine. Three democratic members of the house stood at the podium and supported the protestors. A republican member of the house physically assaulted one of them and took his phone because he was taking a video, and then the house voted on whether or not to expel them. They expelled both of the young black men and didn't expel the one white woman. When the emergency vote to temporarily fill Justin Jones' position, the council voted that HE fill HIS OWN POSITION temporarily until the emergency election next month, and since then he's given speeches about how this was a direct attack on democracy and demanded that the house speaker resign for his blatant racism and attack on democracy. They plan on doing the same thing for Justin Pearce in a few days when the vote for his position is held. And republicans knew that they fucked up so horrendously. They went on news stations and gave speeches of their own about how they just made gen z an enemy and how they made Justin Jones a martyr and a national political icon. One of them said that the whole ordeal was bad for the republican brand. Since then, less than a week ago, I think two states have drafted or passed gun control legislation on automatic rifles.

The supreme court just denied a case where a state was fighting to remove a 12 year old trans girl from her sports team. They said it was unconstitutional and stupid and they weren't going to force a 12 year old girl to play on a boys sports team or have to quit them entirely. They are showing us right now that they plan to stand with us in this fight against fascism.

A judge threw out a discriminatory case against a trans person because they refused to enforce the law that was created for the sole reason to further this genocide. Judges all across the country are throwing out cases because our constitutional rights are being violated and they refuse to uphold the laws violating them.

A South Carolina prolife republican openly opposed a texas republican who manipulated the FDA into removing approval for the abortion pill, saying that it was an overreach of government power and that the pill has been on the market for 40 years so it's obviously safe even if she opposes it personally.

Republicans all over the country are saying, in fact, that their republican counter parts are taking it too far, and far overreaching the bounds of government interference and control.

New Jersey signed a safe state bill into law, allowing trans people to seek refuge there and refusing to extradite trans people and people seeking abortions back to hostile states to be prosecuted. They're one of the few states that has passed this kind of legislation, along with Washington, and Colorado, and California, and maybe a few others.

My generation is getting pissed off and they're getting scared of us. There are far more of us than there are of them, and they are terrified. We're telling each other and them that we know that they work for us, we pay their checks, we give them their jobs, and if they don't want to work for us anymore they won't have jobs to go back to. If protecting and listening to the citizens and what we want is too hard for them, we can and WILL relieve them of their duty. And they should be scared because we are not going down without a fight. There have been protests and marches, hundreds of thousands of people walking the streets, marching the capital, standing our ground. Things are going to get better soon, I can feel the air shifting. There's less infighting, less bickering, we are standing together as a community that has been fucked over one too many times, and we are going to rebuild this world from the ashes if we have to.

#tw trans genocide

[queer-jew-writes]

Craft box in the closet

I used to be sad

sitting up on this shelf

in a box of unfinished things

discarded

forgotten

I always wanted to be finished

But sometimes he takes me out

just to admire my stitches

his handiwork

to run his fingers over my faded paint

clear off the dust

and he's sad too

he feels like he failed me

like I'm one more point against him

in this competition of creation

one more never finished project

I can't help but to think about the love he created me with

the hours of work

the frustration

the joy

the learning

I am finished because I was created in love

what could be more joyful?

#cayden poetry #1/31/23

[queer-jew-writes]

I believe in ghosts

i believe in ghosts

in the moments I stand in-between my yard and the yard that used to be my great grandparents

new neighbors have moved in now and they're sweet enough

but that's where me and my brother rode our bikes

where my grandma's vegetable garden lived, not quite in her yard, not quite in theirs

where my great grandpa would sneak me snacks and peppermints before dinner

I think about the windows in the dining room sometimes

I believe in ghosts when the sun shines in just right

I believe in ghosts in the pictures albums

cheap printed pictures taken with my vtech camera of a beautiful white puppy

of our backyard

of that hole we dug one time in the summer and filled up with water

I believe in ghosts

in the tears in my journal pages

in the angry crying kid

in the half written memories

in the letter after letter after letter to my parents that never made it out of my room

I believe I ghosts in every dark corner

in every memory

in every flashback

I believe

I believe in ghosts because I am haunted

#cayden poetry #1/30/23

[queer-jew-writes]

The Anger

there is comfort in the way the anger feels

boiling just to the edge

burning

screaming

searing

a rage that could destroy

but you can only hold on to it for so long

before it slips through your fingers like every good memory you've ever had

anger is survival

anger is hiding

anger is safety

but what's left when you can only be angry at yourself?

all the rage in the world won't bring you home

but home is all I've ever wanted to be

#cayden poetry #12/4/22

[queer-jew-writes]

I hold his hand

we're walking home together under the moonlight

my fingers feel the cold

I look back and he's gone

I walk myself home and tuck myself into bed

#cayden poetry #10/9/22

[queer-jew-writes]

did it mean anything?

I have to know, did it mean anything?

our first date, I stumble over my words, shake the entire time, and the butterflies scream to let them out

a gentleman, a perfect gentleman, and I tell myself that first dates are too soon to fall in love

but our second date leaves me floored and I'm counting down the days until I see you again

I test the waters

carefully at first

and then all at once

and then I'm drowning

water up to my neck, water over my head

your eyes felt like my life raft

finding solace and safety in your arms

did it mean anything?

I stay in your dorm, your too small bed feeling like home

fall in love, write a poem, get a cat, get engaged

spend my weeks at home counting down the days until I can see you again

first big hurdle out of the way

please, did it mean anything?

we spend the holidays together

our first Christmas, my last Christmas ever

a ruined new years kiss, one to fight for, one still worth fighting for

and the winter is cold without you there

our love blooms in the spring, flowers and vines wrapping around me

pulling me in closer

a hundred good memories in a hundred good days

please, I have to know, did it mean anything?

Summer rolls around, hot and fiery as ever

and our love is warm to the touch

more adult, more mature, more solid

I know you like it's been a lifetime

but the scariest part is that you know me too

every secret, every memory, you know me

you know me, you know me, you know me a thousand times

and I hope you know me in every life I have

please, you have to tell me, did it mean anything? Please

The summer starts to fade and so do you

I spend the weeks missing you

you're busy, you're stressed, and I'm patient

All you can talk about is your new friends, but it's nice to hear your voice in my too quiet thoughts

I latch onto every moment with you, but there are fewer and fewer to hold

time slips through my fingers, I wish I had held on tighter to every second of you

I look away for a second and when I look back my hands are empty

a pile of sand littering the ground

was it worth it? us, our time, the seasons together? or this a wasted year for you

your college boyfriend you'll joke about in your 30s over a glass of wine

I spend our last weekend feeling alone

an empty bed, an empty hand, an empty stomach

I miss you, I hold onto the way your room smells

I hold onto the way your face looks sleeping

I hold onto the sound of your voice

cling to you like my last chance, the lifeboat taking me to safety

but you call out for survivors and I stay silent

and everything I hold onto slips through my fingers again

the sun sets, and you set with it

I'll love you again in my next life

did it mean anything?

it meant everything and it was an honor

#cayden poetry #8/26/22

[queer-jew-writes]

I asked God why she left me alone but she's always been the silent type

listen and learn, but I don't think she tells me anything at all, it's been awful quiet for an awful long time

I reached out to her, voice bellowing, child sized eyes filled with tears

how could you leave me here? will I ever be safe?

she said nothing, silence eating me alive, nothing but my own voice ringing behind my ears

I grew used to the silence on the other end of the line, a call never answered

but I kept leaving voicemails anyways

like hey I know you've been busy but everyday fills me with a grief I can't overcome

and maybe I could use some advice or a hug

like hey I know I ask a lot but maybe just once you could answer

like it feels like the world is ending, will you be back once it does? will you help me then?

call me back, send a sign, make a poster fall off my wall, turn off the light

all powerful and almighty, but I guess the switches put up a good fight

why would she waste time on a dumb kid anyways?

but I met god as an adult

shook my fist at her screaming

I was just a kid

and how could you

and what took so long

and demanding an answer for all my wasted hours

crying on my knees and praying myself to sleep

shook my fist at God, telling her off, a long winded fuck you and what the fuck

and she just says I know

I made you to share in the act of creation, to be a partner to me to care for the earth

but I was powerless against the destruction that our partnership would bring

but I look her in the eye

a moment of connection with the divine

to realize that the universe will swallow us both in the end

and the stars seemed brighter that night, the air cleaner, my soul lighter

a whisper in the wind says I'm praying for things to get better for you, too

and I answer back a somber goodnight

#cayden poetry #7/29/22

[queer-jew-writes]

I am my father's son

I am my father's son

I have his blue eyes, set deep in my skull

His dark brown hair

His beautiful native skin

I am my father's son

I have his love of the land engraved into my very core

His respect for every animal

His atuneness with nature

I am my father's son

I have his longing to sit in the trees at sunrise

To hunt respectfully, to honor the animals we use

To fish, and laugh, and be joyus

I am my father's son

I have his love of adventure

His love of driving on remote roads

His love of country and classic rock

I am my father's son

I have his stubbornness stuck in everything I do

His need to be right all of the time

His love of self destruction, because if you want something done right you have to do it yourself

I am my father's son

I have his anger issues, a short short fuse on a big big bomb

Waiting for the second, any second now

To go off on those I love

A moments notice, never enough time to take shelter

I am my father's son

Drawn to the bottom of the bottle

An addict generations in the making

Never taught to cope with my feelings any other way

A friend to anger and resentment and longing

I am my father's son

Usually for worse

#cayden poetry #3/14/22

[queer-jew-writes]

I stare at this contact form, sure, but shaking

I've thought for months about my choice, about the impact, about rewriting my whole life

I know about the rejections, the dedication

I'm ready but scared

Terrified of the next step

Terrified of this new world I've found myself in

All the new possibilities

I don't know if I can do it, but I long to

#cayden poetry

[queer-jew-writes]

If God is out there I think she understands

If we get one chance at life, why wouldn't we want to be happy

Through any means possible

And sometimes we choose the wrong ones

But it's a treacherous life

#cayden poetry

[queer-jew-writes]

Knox

After weeks of staying with him he brought me home

My room, bigger than his, felt like a cage

Too small and too big at the same time

Seperation anxiety clawed it's way underneath my skin

In the form of I miss yous and too cold

In the form of wearing his jacket that smells stale like my room

In the form of watching Hamilton the musical because I can almost hear him singing along

And I lay down to sleep in a queen bed that feels too big

And cold

And comfortable

Reach for him in the night

Wrapping my arms around air

Hes not there

My heated blanket pressed up against me where he usually sleeps

Trying to remind myself of the feeling

I've never felt safe sleeping with other people

Maybe because of trauma

Maybe being vulnerable scares me

But I've never felt more vulnerable than when I'm not sleeping at his side

Grabbing onto his heartbeat

Holding the sound of his breathing in my ears

His too bright room keeping me safe

A week, one week until I'm back in his arms, feels like the rest of my life

#cayden poetry #9/4/21

[queer-jew-writes]

I stare into the darkness and it stares back

Like a thousand eyes, All on me

Center of the stage

And they blink, curious

Testing me

I don't blink back

This is not a friendly exchange

They are waiting for me not to see them

And sleep is staved off another night

#cayden poetry #6/7/21