Is It Okay If I Use “Totem Pole” As A Metaphor For Just A Little Bit ? I will give it back when I’m done I am sorry

Not sure how else to put this

I have lived most of my life

At the bottom of a totem pole.

I complained the whole time, but–

I made the best of it.

I befriended the grass, the moss

The dirt and the ants. I didn’t mind it when

The worms danced underneath my pants–

I just made plans.

Since I started transitioning

Almost against my will I have been

Moving, shifting,

Trans-planting myself towards a new thing

I went from being a

Weird, angry sad butch

Fat woman, queer thing,

To being a

Short, built, modest man

With blue hairs braiding

Stubbornly into his skin

And a brow that says

“I’m listening”.

I might be mistaken, but I think that makes me

Thoroughly mid-totem, with potential

For soaring.

I would be confident,

I would be happy! But

I can’t explain it, other than that

I have lived my whole life

At the bottom of the totem pole

And the middle feels so tall

I can’t take a deep breath, I can’t even

Look down, for fear of falling

I am up higher than I’ve ever been and

My palms are sweating!!!

I don’t know what to do, and

The imposter’s syndrome is setting in.

I know that this is him, this is who

I was supposed to be, but I also can’t

Help but feel that I’m deathly afraid

Of heights, and that I miss my home

With the worms and the dirt and the grass

It wasn’t where I belonged, but I still

Made it a home. I fear that now

I will be new, again. Unbearably uncomfortable

For a few years, like a refugee in my own skin–

I am born again.

I didn’t think it would be easy, but

I wasn’t prepared for this.


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