hélène

if we let them be a gender fuck, no questions asked

if we let them be happy, how much more would we have in the world?

The French language doesn't have a word for home. Of course there are words for house, apartment, hotel, the physical spaces, but there is not a word that evokes the feeling of home and the feeling of belonging in a space.

The closest word I can think of is "chez" and it is always followed by the hame of a person or group- doesn't directly translate into English, but it loosely translates to one's house/apartment/space. If I were to invite some one over, I'd say come to "Chez moi,” and I just think its interesting because in English we have phrases like "home away from home" and "there's no place like home" but those phrases simply don't translate well into French.

Maybe it has something to do with the culture surrounding close relationships in France - they don't need a word for home because that sense of belonging comes much more from community and talking around the table. A restaurant can be called “chez Hélène,” and I think its great that there is such a rich culture that combines food and relationships and community. In all honesty it’s kind of lonely, too. Even eating a meal alone in France will get you some strange looks!

I’m not sure where this is going, but I’m honestly a bit lonely in France because I haven’t found the people who make up my home here, since a home evidently isn’t really a definable space according to the French. I’ve made friends with some other sapphic Americans but even with them I don’t feel a sense of belonging, but that’s ok.

i could not express myself without being demonized

if i told them too much they’d force me to be exorcized

and they wonder why they don’t see my personality?

sinners threw the stones and buried me, they thought I would die

instead I took them and built walls higher than Babylon

strengthened with fear, these walls nobody can encroach upon

who knows what’s there, it’s easy to mis-self-identify

now i’m here, an ocean away from the guilt of that sin

but i still do not know who i am or what i believe

there’s lots from that life i that i loved and will need time to grieve

so i’ll run to the artists, poets and my violin

Sappho, Aphrodite, Freddie, and Frida hear my prayer