maybe
one upon a time
i was happy
i was healed
i was a child without trauma
but now
i gotta
know it
own it
be it
and maybe work towards
getting back to the child we all
once were
[but why
can i not
think of children
without thinking of
every
single
child
killed by israel]
[i really can’t think of anything anymore
without finding a parallel
to the tragedy
in Palestine]
my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma
and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.
maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;
the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind
but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”
i don’t have
many memories
from childhood
an iconic moment here
a rush of emotion there
the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance
mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes
generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)
and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear
the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became
until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me
[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]
memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most
but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.
so much
moving/packing/driving/stress
too tired to write
a real poem
so instead
i’ll convey to you
the most beautiful thing i heard today
directly after pulling in to our new home’s driveway
the final trip of the day
from across the street
at a new neighbor’s 6th birthday party:
child (somewhere between 8 and 10)
singing (while sprinting down a long driveway):
I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!!! I BE-
(the sound “oof” is heard)
(pause)
child (yelling reassuringly): I’M FINE!
(pause)
(pause)
(pause)
child (running back up the driveway toward the party)
(not quite as loud or exuberant as previously):
I believe I can fly!
kipventures 