the Wonder of...

It's not that I don't feel like one,

didn't want to be one.

In fact I was one, in my head

my perceptions

Still am

It's that they don't see me

as one of them

They see me as different

un-like

foreign and unwelcome

Always they've known

What I couldn't see

that I didn't belong

with them

in their clubs and groups

and secret societies

The only time

I ever passed

Was when I took the rite

given only to those

born female

and bore a child

Then

for a brief glorious time

I was accepted

I passed when the babe

was attached to my breast

While changing diapers

and pushing a stroller

I was seen as woman

while my belly was big

and I waddled while I

walked, with the little head

bouncing on my bladder

But the babe grew big

and became a child

I no longer pushed a stroller

or changed diapers

My unsuckled breasts became

again a nuisance

that I wished gone

And I ceased to pass as woman.

Now I sit here on the bus

in leather jacket and jeans

And I begin to understand

what they have known all along

I am woman

in part

but only in part

I will never be happy

to live only in that world

I am fluid

gender fluid

and flow through expression

and interpretation

I understand that I

cannot pass

consistently

because I am not there

consistently

To be woman is not my home

Just a place I visit

It is my hometown

but no longer where I live

And my heart grieves

for the doors

to the rooms

that are closed and locked

rooms I had thought I would

someday wander

perhaps occupy

But I am not woman,

not all the time

And some rooms

are reserved

for those who are

woman all the time.

So I grieve

and I mourn

and I rant and I rage

And make damn sure it is known

That while I am not

always woman

Neither am I man

I am other

Fey, Witch, Amazon, Gender Queer

Use the words that fit

Whatever rolls off your tongue

Maybe that way

you can touch on a slight bit

of the wonder

That is me.