“In Spite Of _______.”

Editor’s Note: The following is a collaborative poem, generated organically during a workshop hosted by Twenty Bellows and Beyond The Veil Press at the Center for Colorado's Women's History workshop on LGBTQ+ Erasure & Reclamation Poetry.

CCWH Education Coordinator Cat Jensen hosted a hyper-focused tour of the home through the lens of the erasure and reclamation of LGBTQ+ personal histories of the women of the home. Marissa Forbes and Sarah Herrin led Ashley Howell Bunn, Cat Jensen, and Kaley Ramirez in a word bank exercise — reclaiming words or lines from primary historical sources. Then, after writing our own lines/stanzas we formed this piece in a round-robin style, letting the poem form. Our collective experience at the museum led to the cohesive movement of the piece.

Although not perfect, it is organic and highly representative of the power of history, community, and marginalized experience of LGBTQ+ individuals and women of the West.

Gently, I stir

in spite of grace.

Eyes tenderly wither—jutting stone.

Whether the task at hand is of the Earth

or home, my fingers are sore.

My mind is too.

Listen

to the way the yellow roses

whimper.

My perceptions of love

from every edge and pore.

Bless, pray for all sake.

Plucking flowers from their dirt

and watching them wither in the window—

Is this the life they’re meant for?

The women in this home do not worry.

Flowers as you’re able.

I was always overmuch.

I won’t let the whimper of a weaker man

tell me how to grow

or sow my garden.

We know now that the absence of ghosts

reveal happiness.

I love our past and our future-fills.

Curse—no, scratch that—Love.

My fingers, heart, and mind are muscles

like a flower, from seed to vase:

Happiness in life

is savoring solitude.

Love overmuch, we must.

These roots are deep.

My future depends only on

the sun and soil.

And existing with kindred folk

beyond

the erasure of history.