The Day After

She hopped on the freedom train.

The backpack full of her self, face masked.

Inside, a rainbow flag, colorful makeup.

Outside, the catholic face of a village girl,

Hoping to burst wide open.

As she sat by the window, the hills of home receding,

She remembered yesterday.

She remembered the words

"Mom, dad, I like girls",

She remembered mom's disgusted face,

An interjection of horror floating in the air.

She remembered dad getting up

And leaving.

She remembered the silence,

And mom's cry in the bedroom at night,

Behind a closed door that separated two worlds.

She remembered explaining that the train left in the morning.

She said the word "Pride",

Parents felt the words "Pain" and "Shame".

As the train approached the station in the city,

A rainbow flag waving in the wind,

She felt home.

She walked into a bathroom and came back new.

Colorful shirt on, flag in hand, ready to fight.

Joining the crowd, embraced by the energy of strangers,

She marched with her siblings

From other parents, equally pained.

Together they shouted the words "freedom", "love", and "equality".

They stepped forward, foot after foot, wrists raised, chins up.

Nobody shouted back.

It was as if the city claimed

"you are safe here".

But she had to return.

At the end of the day,

Slowly, she stepped back into the train.

In the bathroom, she washed her face,

Rubbing the colors off, sending her self away.

As she looked down at the sink,

Her stomach hurt

Shocked by how quickly she was gone.

The next morning, she entered the kitchen

Only to find him, sitting between the parents,

A broken smile and a hopeful face.

The parents said the words "a good boy" and "lunch together".

They smiled and winked.

A wink that felt like the words "we forgive you".

She hadn't asked for their pardon. But she didn't want to be an orphan.

She said the word "ok".