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
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 might be mistaken, but I think that makes me
Thoroughly mid-totem, with potential
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.