I don't look like either side of my family
an outlier in plain sight
soap-bleached, dry hair in puffs of smoke
and rolls of skin
undesirable on either side
and i feel the heat

could i have been born well?
untangled as i felt the first few rays of light
maybe meant for a different mother
the storks dropped their package
on the wrong address

my mother, could you dry my eyes?
just for the night
before you empty your wallets
at the big house
before you ruin your liver
and fill the gaps with
*****

maybe i was meant for a different light
a different face, a different body
a different name, a different brain
a different person in my mirror everyday
i sing songs of wanting to escape
as i rattle the metal bars on my windows
i am not mistreated,
rather not treated at all
walking in silence as my sister
freely wails her sorrows into her pillow at night
tiptoeing to not be heard
my brother cackles and screams slurs
at the top of his lungs

they were made for them
perfect children of god
carbon copies of my mother's face and demeanor
i
only through my eyes

only through my eyes.

Belonging

The feeling that you will always be
accepted
                                        Integral
one of us

Faults forgiven
Triumphs celebrated
Your past and future
                                        Integrated
into our story

Such an important feeling
                                        Vital
To our sense of community
our sense of self

The ground feels shaky
Prone to destabilizing quakes at the first crack
If that feeling is lacking
                                         Withheld

The floor disappears from beneath you
If that feeling vanishes
                                         Or is withdrawn

Usually it takes more than one
Of the us
To expel or invite

But perhaps
The most influential
One of us

Is you

At the end of the day
You decide
                                         Unconsciously
                                         Consciously
If you are worthy
Of belonging
Of being

                                         One of the us

Sometimes though
The better question may be
Are we worthy
                            of belonging to you?

My whole life
I felt so much shame in my whole being
like I was born wrong
that everything about me was so wrong
because I was born into a family
where I never recieved love attachment or true joy
where I was always picked on bullied and harrassed by
pretty much everyone in my life.
Where everytime I felt my dysphoria
I felt wrong
Iike it was wrong to feel like a girl
but wanna be a boy at times ...
but now that I am healing myself
I see that there is nothing wrong with who I am
that I am beautifully made
and that I am just different in my own way
and that is beautiful ,
I am a person who thinks for myself
who has always questioned it all
and that's why I was able to leave a super opressive religion
and hometown.
It's been my saving grace.
Someone who is super creative
who has a super big heart and soul
who feels so many many things
so when others even in a well intended way
try to tell me that I am non binary or something like that
or queer,
the labels don't feel like they  fit me,
because I am who I am
and I don't like labels,

I am learning to not  judge myself
but to just accept myself,

that I have a right to exist
to live a good beautiful life
of my own choosing
to learn that I am powerful by just being me
by just existing,
and that there was never anything wrong with me
I AM Who I AM.

I can see this only with my imaginary eyes
I can feel it in the vibrant empty spaces inside
how everything is woven together
so that I belong to her to him to them and to you
I belong to my skin I belong to the bones of my hands
I belong to my nails, of course to my heart
what if we are first imaginary beings with concrete joints?
have we forgotten that we belong to the story of the air
water fire, to the story of the earth?

the closer I get to who I am, to the earth of the soul,
to the real depth of blood, the more I cease
for a moment to twist the faces of wind in my mind
so that the world doesn't get hurt
I belong to a window, to this edge
between outside and inside

I belong to the world, oh
how wonderful that
the world belongs to itself

maybe you try
and you will reach the top
and realize you don't belong there
then it's okay to come back
to the place
where belonging was waiting
for you

You’re not one of us.
Or perhaps we’re not one of them?
These statements place me much farther away from where I want to be.