There are days 
When he just wants to climb,
Inside his own story book,
Find a tiny Nook,
Between the story lines,
Where his lies lie,
Life -lines -lies, 
Shh ..never to be told

Could he be so bold 
As to share the untruths,
The half truths,
The out and out lies? .

But alas! No! 
He feels bound,
Like the pages of the book he would write ,and then have to Hide He would have to keep chapters and stories and verse to himself,
Only He, knowing the dramas that unfold,
Never to be told.

If they were written in poetry and prose,
They would get tucked in, hidden , 
In the shelves & rows,
Of some forgotten library,
In some ill-forsaken town,
Some Wild West place,
Small, 
But big enough,
To hide his disgrace.
Of course he feels”I only have myself to blame,
Only I, know the Shame.”

So his book has to remain unwritten, unread, unnoticed,
Because his name could not be on the cover .
Author Unknown ~
The name of the book? 
Is it not clear? 
Can’t you see?
It’s all about love & all things queer, 
And not being seen for fear 
Of Shame.
A rose by any other name , 
“The Unloved Lover “

Poem by Mel Murphy
@mel_murphy_medium_mentor

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Join us in September 2024 for a series on Unravelling Shame – In this period between Lughnasadh and Samhain as we move from the light towards the darker half of the year, we invite you to join us to shine the light together into the darkness of the shame that we each carry.

We’d love it if you’d join us on this journey to unravel shame.

Contact @saoroexperience , @satnamtherapy or @michaelryan_thewayhome if you’ve questions or you’d like to get involved…