I wish I was told.
I wish I was shown
my uncle’s secret life
before he passed on.

Of his beautiful apartment,
of his two timid cats,
of his husband,
and how he felt ashamed
of himself.

Of how he found himself a failure
for loving a man.
And how he drank
the shame away.

And how he forever
felt ashamed.
Until that summer day
when the sun turned to ice.

When we got the fateful call
that made my mother fall in tears.

I think I could have help
by telling him not to feel shame.
Not to torture himself,
but to feel proud
for going against everyone else.

I think I could have helped by letting him know
I didn’t care.
And how he was my favorite uncle.
Still is.

But I never got the chance to help.
For I was never told
or shown
the truth.