One day I will write poetry
and there will be no need
to replace all my ‘hims’ with ‘hers’,

I will carry the correct pronouns
proudly on my skin like gold medals,
wear the smile my father gave me
and say these exact words to my mother:
‘‘I love him.’’

One day I will bring all the man I am
into every room I walk into—
I will unfold myself like a big secret
waiting to touch the earth
and laugh out loud in the face of consequence.

I will paint myself in the red of a dying sunset,
in the blue of my grandmother’s eyes,
and in the green of my lover’s promises,

I will shed the torments of my youth
and burst into colors.

And when that day comes,
I will brush off your savage criticisms
like a spec of dust
and make jokes out of your hostile judgements.

I will raise my head high
and grow wild with pride on my fingertips.
I will enrobe myself with my coat of many colors
and walk with the stride of a newly crowned king.

One day I will write poetry
about all the things I’ve been too scared to become
and all the rainbows that never made it to the sky
and I will start living.

And I promise you,
it is going to be epic.
One day.









Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash