SIGNS

BORN AGAIN JOURNAL ENTRY

i didn’t start the war inside myself.

but i will finish it.

bleeding my red blood into a chalice

for the sacrament of the eternally condemned.

i felt it whispering to me.

like a mouse scratching in the cupboard while the house is asleep.

you can’t smash a mirror and not expect

7 years of bad luck.

i’ve been smashing them since he told me i’d never get a boyfriend if i didn’t wear makeup.

i am not a woman.

there. i said it.

a boundary i had to first set with myself.

the daily masochism of 6 in heels was over.

i writhed in my apartment in the agony of my transsexuality.

i felt my cells turning inside out.

my limbs kicking and squirming against the chrysalis.

a crack.

her embryonic sack spilling it’s contents onto the floor of my kitchen as i sobbed.

her death rattle lasted for months.

she faded slowly until my life with her felt like a bad dream.

what does it mean to be devoured by our love?

the man i am now feels nothing like the men i’ve known.

devoid of definition.

have mercy on the first born son.

i watched over my birth like a guardian angel.

flaming sword in hand i sliced the umbilical chord and wrapped my inner child in my feathers.

he is safe now.

here.

with me.

and i with him.