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by Renee M
Personhood congealed; I was.
Identity, strange-structured, snapped on societys
unbending forms.
Torn within, I buried the wound with reactive,
confused denial;
Attempted opposite alternatives hopeless.
Childhood to twenties, I riskingly tumbled through
partial, translucent identities; laboring to better
protect the sore; sealed from consciousness.
Freedom, satisfaction; brief illusions.
Stiffening adulthood roles advanced; pressure;
submission; conformity.
Soul incomplete, dysphoric; feelings fading, frozen.
The sores containment embrittled; cracked; split wide.
The wound stank.
Crazed poisons pervaded me.
Drugs, street then clinical, sustained me sickly.
I hurt; twisted; gasped; yearned; reached out.
I discovered a mirror in fellow changelings.
A path revealed.
Knowledge crept, revelation irrepressible.
Fever bathed me; unifying; terrible.
It broke.
I was clear. Flying. Changed. Blinking at
accelerations.
Self-blinders below; behind; broken.
I soared pathward; metamorphisizing; home-lost;
Propelled by releasing stored repression.
Growth and change my goal;
Assured.
In January 1992, I only had six months to wait until my GRS with Stanley Biber in Trinidad, Colorado. My mind was awhirl, a mix with elated, happy, proud, sad, angry, hurt and other feelings.
It was only two years since my first contact with other TG people at a Tri Ess meeting. There, I met other TSs and began to realize that I was also TS.
Everything seemed to be happening very fast. I felt like I was on an accelerating rocket sled. My mind was clearer and working better than it had been since high-school. For the first time in my life (excepting for class or homework), I wrote some poems. I used free verse. This one definitely had the most meaning and passion.
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Comments
the evolution of a soul
Wow! And THAT is how you do free verse poetry! Inventive rich imagery, allusion and metaphor;
and yet never precious, your meaning always clear. Kinetic, making the words & syllables dance.
And by keeping it all personal to you, you avoided the overcooked pedantic loftiness
of a lot of what aspires to be "inspirational" material. Just beautiful.
I'd put this in my poetry mag in a second (if I had one),
somewhere right toward the front.
~~~hugs, Laika
Well shit, I guess it really CAN happen here..,
.
Wow!
Your poetry is lovely. Probably much more intellectual than mine. Still, the emotion is clear; giving the power to proceed.
BRAVO !
Gwen Brown
I was supremely blessed today...
...a poem...poema...to create....and the creation is rivaled by the creator...the writer of this superb verse....blessing me with her life....opening and revealing a heart...giving me hope and strength through the verse that is her life. Thank you, Renee for this beautiful poem.
Possa Dio riccamente vi benedica, tutto il mio amore, Andrea
Love, Andrea Lena