However, it lacked the experience of Kamil Ch.

Back around 2003, I was dealing with the conflict between my emotional and sexual orientation. I still couldn't understand—why I love women, but am attracted to men. And neither did my spiritual teacher understand this contradiction—she kept wanting me to have an open heart toward women—which never helped me in any way—because then I formed emotional ties to them—while my sexuality pulled me elsewhere. So I learned to close the door to women and open it more to men—paradoxically, the men in my life didn't know how to open the emotional door toward me.

ST. AMBROSE

I kissed his lips like one wild,
with one hand holding onto the back of his neck,
with the other lightly around his hips,
I stood on my tiptoes.

His eyes bottomless,
His lips worm-eaten,
His cheeks wooden.

I kissed the statue like mad,
fingers caressed the cheek,
removed the blush with a thumb
“Grant me my secret wishes.”

March 30, 2003, Pardubice

And then also

APPENDIX TO SAINT AMBROSE:

I would hide in his hollow,
but I have no reason to,
I am not ashamed of myself,
I overcome my fear,
that is why I kissed his lips
– as if I were kissing a human being,
who sees me without sin.

One might say—and I stepped down from the pedestal, only to notice the security camera behind my back—luckily nobody looked for me afterwards, I suppose I caused no damage to the statue of Saint Ambrose. Statues never attracted me, but Saint Ambrose called out to me. Perhaps he needed to give me a little more courage to be myself and stop hiding.

*

Many years have passed since I made my coming-out. In fact, so many years that I forgot what it's like to live in fear—what it's like—not to come to terms with one's conscience. And whenever I meet a man who hasn't sorted that out within himself, a faint memory flickers in my eyes of what it must have been like.

Today I no longer understand myself for having hidden for so long—and I would never want to hide again, but I realize all the more that even though many years have passed, there are still men around me who are ashamed of their feelings and perception—it's still here—somewhere in the air—hanging in the air—that it's not ok.

In the poetry of my youth lies an important piece of information:

Generality is a sign of fear.

Until I came to terms with myself—and this doesn't apply only to orientation—I wrote nothing good, because I hid behind general verses revealing nothing about me, about others, or about the world.

I would have been a great poet, had I known this when I was young.

Toys and dreams
under the dirt
we'll piss on
the vagina.

Kamil Ch. wrote this in my poetry notebook as a critique of my generality. Well, today I'm not at all surprised he wrote something like that in my notebook. But I don't even remember who Kamil Ch. is anymore.

I wrote about women for my friends, probably so they would feel closer to me. I was a bit more poetic:

… penetrated a woman
the brightest streak
and born of sudden fright,
a jasmine-scented clove.

25.4.2002, Písek

However, it lacked the experience of Kamil Ch.