innate

a friend of mine talks of conversion
as if there could be such a thing
when what I am is just… innate, a fact,
like grass is green
and Mexico is a country in North America…

and sex has little to do with it,
it’s just an urge that carries no shame,
or shouldn’t. but somehow I can’t say
that I don’t care what St Paul said,
perhaps because a doubt lingers
that maybe it’s a sin, though I doubt it…

more like it’s just because I’m still learning
to state myself and claim a pride
in who I am, to simply be without caring,
to know that grass is green and that one day
it will be brown, that all things pass,
and so the little things like need without harm
need not be hid from, like a storm.