Open your hearts to the queers who die
Young. And, please, your eyes with mourning
Children. Then open your hands for minds
Embattled and carry your spade
To another's grave ; yes, carry your spade
To another's grave.
Pick from the tree a leaf still
Glowing red and promise the crying creatures
Old age. Those who die young won't
Melt in the rain but bring a million queer
Hearts to their grave ; yes, bring a million
Queer hearts to their grave.
Why power is blind and arrogance rules, know
There are those for whom life was no gift.
Who fought every corner for what days they
Had and dropped yet their tears
On younger one's graves ; yes, dropped
Yet their tears on younger one's graves.
Recall, then, when you age, the queers
Who couldn't. Be the standing oak to their short
Summers, and then bring out all
The words: fight their fight, never sell out, never
Take it out on another's grave ; no,
Never take it out on another's grave.