raison d'être

I do not want your patronizing smiles and words
as if I were an ordinary man. When you
stroke my cheek with your thumbnail,
wiping away the tears I would never admit to,
telling me that everything will be okay--when you
kiss me softly on the cheek while my eyes burn
like my passions and frustrations and hope and
everything I have ever hoped for and wanted and believed--
when you embrace me as if you can make my fears go away
with your warmth--
I do not want you to treat me as if
you can make it go away.

There is no comfort in basic human comfort
and no dignity in basic human dignity.
There is no comfort in your comforting hands,
along the knots in my back,
along the ridge of my spine,
trying to massage away my demons. It is as if
you do not appreciate my struggle--and I do
struggle--and instead view me as
some troubled man, haunted by ghosts
from my past, as if who I am can be separated
from the ghosts that haunt me and guide me
and define me.

I do not want your consolation or your well-wishing.
I do not want this to go away. I do not want to abandon
my fight, my quest, my struggle. My raison d'être is
to prove that I can overcome any challenge,
not merely to will it away.
I do not want your protective arms around my shoulders,
warding off life's slings and arrows, telling me
that everything will be okay.