Monday, June 8, 2015

A Letter from Your Son

You’ll never find a boy
If you don’t grow your hair out.
No, mom, I’ll never find a boy
if I let it grow. The boy’s inside me,
has been, screaming, wailing to be
released, to be me. You torture him
with expectations, dresses and frills
not realizing he’s your son.

We support you, they say.
Support and understanding
are two different ideas,
you’ve mixed them up.
I’m afraid.

Be yourself there’s no one
else to be. Slow down,
girl, you’re rushing.
How do you rush becoming
yourself when you’ve waited
twenty years?

I finally met him.
Shook his hand and said hello,
he’s polite, funny, kind, loving,
passionate, he’s me

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