This poem came out of the May 3, 2011 Poetry Fishbowl. It was selected in the generally sponsored poetry poll. It was inspired by a prompt from haikujaguar who related an anecdote about a transgender person using the changeling myth to retell their own story. This is the heart of all storytelling, the power inherent in myths and folk tales -- it lets us turn our own experiences into stories, making them easier to remember, to deal with, to incorporate into our lives. Think about the stories you tell of your own life, and the family stories you pass down. Then read this one, with its dual levels of meaning, the faerie and the transgender...
Father, I know
you raised a daughter,
but she was never me.
She was a changeling child
that the fairies left in my place.
I'm sorry it took so long
for me to find a way
to banish her back Underhill
with the magic of steel knives
and a brewing far more complex
than any eggshells.
Father, I am here now,
the son you always wanted.
Let me sit at your knee
and learn the things
that men teach to boys.
If my face is still halfway
between handsome and beautiful,
if my voice sounds a bit fey,
if I seem not quite real --
it is only because I was raised on
fairy wine and clover honey
and the silver apples of the moon.
Give it time. The mortal world
will remember how to hold me.
Father, I only want
to belong, to find the place
that should have been mine from birth.
Only give me the key to your heart
and I will be content.
Let the Fair Folk have their daughter back,
who dances in her pink dress
and laughs behind her lily hand.
Let me have the axe and the woodpile
and a shirt of good blue flannel.
I've made the long journey home.
It's up to you now to open the door
on our happily ever after.
Thoughts
May 11 2011, 08:03:45 UTC 10 years ago
Alas! Indeed, not everyone's shape is conducive to change.
>> (A G cup bust just doesn't vanish, even if you're fat. I tried making a binder once, and it didn't quite work. To try to buy this stuff costs a fortune, too.) <<
I started out with 32DD, a size that nobody even made bras in, not that I could abide wearing one. I'm not sure what my current size would be. Anyhow, I experimented with binding just for the heck of it. I discovered that 1) no amount of wrapping would make the lumps go away, and 2) my body didn't tolerate that any better than a bra. (I can wear a bodice, though, since that supports the weight from my hips.)
>> I know several (now) male transfolk, and often my reaction is more than a little envy. They didn't have the monster boobs to try to make disappear before they could become themselves.
At almost 50, now, there becomes less point to any of it. <<
That's understandable, but must be frustrating. *hugs*
Re: Thoughts
May 11 2011, 23:51:38 UTC 10 years ago
I can wear a bra, just not one of those underwire torture devices. I mostly have to, otherwise I nearly smack myself in the face with them if I move quickly and sweat like a pig beneath them.
Re: Thoughts
May 11 2011, 23:59:54 UTC 10 years ago
Re: Thoughts
May 12 2011, 00:36:01 UTC 10 years ago
Re: Thoughts
May 12 2011, 01:57:30 UTC 10 years ago