Daughter now a son

A fifth-grade friendship,

That held throughout the years,

A special kind of kinship,

The result of shared experiences and shared tears,

I went to his house for the first time when I was ten,

I remember it like yesterday,

Even though it happened way back when. . .

That’s when I met,

My best friend’s mum,

Who wanted a daughter,

But instead got a son,

It was in god’s plan,

For this change to come,

I understand where she’s coming from,

Having something changed to be gone,

Leaving her, where she stands, all alone,

Her daughter, now a son, and long far gone,

His mother’s house is no longer his home.

He was cursed with a uterus,

Feminine features, that were numerous,

And curves that made him cry,

So he bound his chest,

And he cut his hair,

Said silent prayers,

To the gods, in hopes of being forgiven

Avoiding people’s stares,

Their questions lingering in open-air,

Showing him that life’s unfair

He just wants to be home,

comforted by his mum,

But when he comes she’s not there,

He can see the hate in the room’s atmosphere,

His breath becomes uneven as the air,

Passing through his mouth and lungs,

And he breaks down crying,

until he hears her come,

She takes a look at her child,

Asking “Honey, what’s wrong?”,

Saying they should pray to the lord,

Until the healing is done,

But he stays silent,

He doesn’t respond.

Suddenly out of the quiet,

his voice rings loud and strong,

He says “mum, your daughter is now a son”.

For the first time in that moment,

He saw hate in her eyes,

His mother started yelling,

Drowning out his low cries,

She despised her own son,

For her son was now a sinner,

She couldn’t look past,

the news he had given her,

She told him to go,

As she stormed out the house,

Leaving him all alone in his sorrow,

As the tears tumbled down,

In this moment he let himself cry,

As he softly mumbled slow slurred goodbyes,

To the only one who loved him,

Other than his friends,

To the one who had just left him,

To sit and say his “amens”

But as he sat there are prayed,

For god to make him change,

The only thought,

He could think of was,

There was a time

He was loved by his mum.

Going into the kitchen,

with tear-stained cheeks,

Feeling belittled, feeling woozy and weak,

He thought there was but one option,

Unless he wanted to settle for theoretical adoption

Feeling like an abomination,

A monster of his own dysphoria’s creation,

He wanted to end his own life,

Penetrating his wrists deeply with a sharp knife,

Until the blood ran black,

from his wrists to his head,

staining them in deep pools of red,

as if no one cared he’d cut them,

Like a bullet to his head,

He cried in his misery and dread,

Praying to God he’d soon be dead,

He sat there and bled,

He regretted what he said,

But it wouldn’t change a thing,

There was nothing that could bring,

His mum back to him.

He stayed there on the kitchen floor,

Looking at the front door,

Wishing she would just come back and forgive him,

But this daughter now a son knew the chances were slim,

He knew his mum would no longer accept him.

I was heading to his house,

there to return a book,

He didn’t answer the door,

So I went inside and looked,

That’s when I found him,

already half-dead,

I started to panic,

my thoughts filled with dread,

I managed to call the ambulance on time,

I was so scared of losing this friend of mine,

For we were everything to each other,

He was like my brother

When I found out he was alright,

I sat there and held him tight,

Telling him not to scare me again,

He told me I was not going to lose another friend.

He offered me a smile,

And I offered him a place to stay,

A place where he could make,

A full recovery,

Away from hateful people,

Away from those who claim he’d been pushed astray,

From “the words of the lord” that they choose to obey,

But even now, 30 years later,

There isn’t a day he doesn’t get a snide comment from a hater,

But he’s learned to brush the hateful comments away,

Smiling instead as he prevails in this world day to day,

But despite the fact that he did nothing wrong,

That even though he grew stubborn and strong,

This daughter, now a son, still misses his mum.

~ Michelle Galor