Otters and Other Mythical Creatures

I think about otters

no one forces an otter 

otters are just otters

otters just live

————-

I think about living a life with out the sweaty milk sacks 

now that’s poetry. 

milk sacks. spigots.

I’ve got a million euphemisms 

let’s just tone that gendered term down friend 

soften the blow a bit

they have given life though

nurtured life

power, grace, and magic irrefutable

I am thankful for this gift

even as I am being dragged kicking and screaming into your 50’s house wife fantasy.

*I Do Not Consent To This!*

I scream into the void 

but no one is listening 

or no one cares

*I do not consent to this body* I whisper

small.desperate. an eternity of tired

still

The entire world leans in

cheerful.helpful.

and offers me a cough drop and half of a flat soda.  

forever missing the point

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Living Between Hope and Hopeless

I’m alive

for tonight 

for today

I’m alive and my feet hurt

I’m alive and my body burns, existing at 90 degree angles from itself

I’m alive and they dismantled the ADA

I’m alive and I don’t know what the future holds 

I’m alive but my insurance may partially cover gender confirmation surgery and hormones 

I’m alive and there’s no way to make that last line flow nicely 

so I’ll just say

I’m alive

Chronic Illness Feeling Number Whatever

On the verge of a really big bad, I can’t move and everything is on fire flare. 

not quite though…
instead i feel like freezing cold mud. 
My muscles burn as if after anaerobic excersize 

it is an empty, sputtering, cold, cold burn.
My muscles, so weak and slow
struggle mightily and weakly, an old overheated computer, slow 
-buffering- buffering- buffering-  
every cell in my body surrounded by cold sloughing muck, 
neurons firing through thick sludge. 
a difficult and slow journey. 
The mud drips and oozes 
my muscles are melting.  
i struggle to hold this form 
to not melt away 
and drift into nothingness like a half remembered memory

Reframed

I used to think my sick body was a weak body

for the way it shook, burned, throbbed, and trembled

how I cursed it’s every inconsistency

how I sobbed and railed and wailed 

at my body’s failure to do as I saw fit and proper

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

yet here I am years later 

thriving despite

inspite 

because of

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

and so a dawning of sorts

a realization 

my sick body is a strong body

a persistent body 

an empowered body 

my body screams to live 

trembles in its effort to continue 

burns to live a day in love 

my body shakes with will to live

we shall not stop

not today

not tomorrow 

for this body is a strong body

Happy Queer Holidays

A History –

Christmas morning 1984: I snuck into the living room in the middle of the night. The lights from the tree seemed like a gentle hug as I surveyed the presents clustered around it. Teddy Bears and bikes twinkled merrily under the lights. No pink I noticed, and breathe an internal sigh of relief. Hopefully I would only get one or two unwanted Barbies that year. 

Christmas morning 1990: My face fell immediately upon opening the present in my lap. Underneath the delicate tissue paper and shiney silver wrapping paper is a universe of pink and teal discomfort. There was  Teen Spirit deodorant, hair gel, hair spray, lip gloss, and other small pieces of feminine coded frippary. I looked up in bafflement at my dad. My step mother smiled a tight lipped smile at me whispering “We thought you might be better at…if you had more tools” as she gestured vaguely at her body. Shame and confusion writhed over me as I peeked at the comfortable and beloved Who Framed Roger Rabbit sweatshirt I was wearing. What was wrong with me anyway? 

Christmas morning 2005: My semi estranged husband had created a beautiful winter wonderland with every day items laying around the house. We both awkwardly hyper focused on our babies and their magical experience of Christmas. I was sad but also relieved that no one was trying to force glittery baubles and pretty blouses on me or reflecting tearfully on what a lovely wife/daughter/sister I was. New words were darting in and out of my awareness nervously: transgender, genderqueer. I wasn’t sure how  yet but I knew my entire universe was shifting.  

Christmas morning 2007: My girlfriend and I cuddled on the couch while our children opened presents. She gave me gifts that didn’t leave me feeling ashamed and confused. I felt like I might actually really exist for the first time in my thirty some odd years of life. 

Christmas morning 2010: I was a single parent, certain that I was not compatible with humanity in any meaningful way. “not fit for human consumption” I joked. But I knew myself and I was happy with the person I was becoming. I was confident and content for the first time in my life. Though I believed I was beyond love, I had language to define my reality more clearly. It was a blessing I never expected.  I watched my sons open presents joyfully. life was good. 

.
Christmas morning 2015: such a full and surprisingly wonderful morning. Beyond all expectations I had met a lover and friend who really sees and embraces all of me. Together we have been able to build a fundamentally healthy and nourishing relationship dynamic. My chronic illness had relatively recently forced me to quit working outside our home. There were many challenges ahead of us. It will be hard, but that day we watched our four oldest children open presents as they laughed and fussed over the new baby. Life was great. 

Christmas morning 2017, A prediction: The last two years have been hard, the last year has been the hardest. My nesting partner and I are worn down in a lot of ways. Our meager social network and resources have been stripped further down outside of a deeply appreciated online community that we have deep love and gratitude for. I have in my partners and online community, people who really see and wholeheartedly want every part of me, for the first time in my life. Something strong and fragile, uncoils in my chest. Perhaps I am fit for human consumption after all. The presents are small and few but the love is very real. My nesting partner is hopefully preparing to visit our/his oldest daughter in Texas. Our holiday, whether celebrated on the solstice or X-mas is an honoring of us all as individuals and a family. Life flows on. 

 Life is magic. Life is hard. Life is my Blessing. 

Happy holidays for all my beautiful, sad, joyous, struggling, celebrating humans!


<< This post is part of the Renaissance holiday blog roll! Find out what it’s all about here.>>

A handy list of everyone’s dates is posted in there, make sure to check
it out!


A Universe in Their Eyes

Star child

You were fire once

Dust child

You wore infinity so well

Fingertips ablaze and heart blood weeping

The embers of all your resolutions burn through clammy palms

Perhaps they will spell fortitude in cold ash on your coffin

Will you allow yourself then, to remember how to live?

Or will you remain forever whispering into the dark? 

Unforgiving and unforgiven

Despair and loneliness knit into your bones

Hovering like concerned mothers right behind your eyes

 .

.

.

…my eyes

.
Burning

Exalted

Empty

Reborn or something like it

I will stitch my dignity into a shape I can wear

An eternity in the span of a breath 

An unqualified absolution

An uncertain victory to be sure

A Brief Repose

just let me breath this night air a moment

let me remember how to feel joy in my heart

cool night air whispers 

whisking away a year and a life of pain

I remember what it means to relish life 

to be thankful for the little things

I remember what it means to love you. 
I do love you 

with every grain of my being
tomorrow we go back to a life worth living

tomorrow we go back to the fight

but just for this brief and shining moment
we rest