Where I Came From
When a son
Is just like his mom
People think it’s magic, people think
It’s proof of god’s love.
For whatever reason for
The majority of my life
I have resented my mother and my sister
For insisting I was a woman
Now that I realize I was waging war
With the outside world
And they will stop
However they can to help—
I see that I was hitting myself.
Now I have to reconcile as
A son, who is just like his mother
In every way and also
Exactly like his father.
I am now forced to come to terms with
Who I am, who I’ve been, and
Who I have a right to bother.
I am sick of bothering myself and
When I bother others they don’t want me
I think perhaps it’s time
For me to grow up
And recognize that a son
Who is just like his mother
Is proof of god’s love
Even if you don’t believe in her, or
A word anyone says about her—
When all is said and gone
Time settles like a dust and
All of what you mix into the air
Breathes with you, like a pollutant
I coughed and coughed and coughed and coughed
And heard nothing but my mothers lungs
Wheezing, making me hack
Regardless of my identity I am not able to change
Where I came from.
Perhaps it’s time I came to peace
With being a son.