Mar 23


My gender feels like a river.
Fluid and unpredictable, it carries me
Through whirling rapids that seeth of indecision
And contemplative canyons, echoing with my own thoughts.
Sometimes the water rises, surging towards something new
But I do not drown.
Terrified and joyous, wary and curious, I rise with it.
 steady on my raft of identity.

Other times, my gender is a tree.
Comfortingly unmoving, yet always changing in small ways.
Reaching new branches into the sky, and flowering a different color each year.
A truth rooted so deeply within me, 
that not even the strongest winds can tear it down.
And when I climb this tree and reach the top, I am always surprised.
Because as intricate and diverse as my identity feels,

The sheer amount of things that I am
Is always outdone by the landscape shown below me
Of who I could be.
An endless view of possibilities, 
lit by the blazing sun of hope
And the quiet moon of determination.

About the Author: rosealice
Author has not loved anything.