A Poem #2

Tonight I present to you, fellow reader, "A Poem #2"

By Cam Noir

There is a transition period in order to change form.  

During this period is a moment of pause and reflection.

We begin to morph in subtleties.

Like days going by in the blink of an eye.

The dull of day before the night sky.

The silence between heartbeats,

a downbeat to life.

All of this change, that rarely arrives with a bang. 

But instead is gradual, in stop motion, frame by frame.

Like a feather falling in reverse.

And gravity curls its edge.

We change sex, we change gender.

And its important to know the difference between the two.

We change names that never quite fit.

Into clothes that finally feel like skin.

We change pronouns that no longer entrap us.

But instead, wrap us like truth aloud.

We change jobs when our morals do not coincide.

We outgrow, outrun, outlast, unlearn, and learn again.

But we always return to ourselves in the end.

Again and again.

This transition period, in order to change form.

Is natural as the leaves and fall.

Breath and body.

The tide and the moon.

So don't dare tell me transition is unnatural.

As you may change your natural state every day.

Our moods, our masks, our natural hair.

When you bite your tongue.

While chewing on your words of hate.

And blood flows through that holy gate.

You transition into silence or surrender,

just to survive.

Just like me, like us, you too are in transition.

A constant motion.

So what makes us a threat?

Your simplistic definition for the human condition,

boxed in binaries.

Bound by fear.

Will not make us less queer.

You name what you don't understand unnatural, but what is unnatural about becoming?

We are unfolding, leading with compossibility.

The multiplicity of truth, of existence.

Identity is not either or.

This or that.

But both and.

Now and then.

Being and becoming.

We are never asking you for permission to be.

We are queer, we are here.

And we will persevere. 

My transition is not a threat, for it is instead a mirror.

So if this spooky scene rattles you, I dare you to take a closer look.

I am here and queer, to rattle some bones.

To moan in the margins of your comfort.

But just as ghosts only haunt what refuses to change.

So will I, like the leaves fall.

Like breath and body.

The tide and the moon.

Transform, cause storms, and inform.

Peace,

Cam Noir