growing queerly

i grew up queer, that is to say,

i grew up a child.

the passions i pursued were mine,

not imposed.

the delight and awe i felt for the world were genuine and keen.

i woke with the sun, excited for him to appear through the cracks in my curtains. we would greet each other warmly, offering promises of the day to come.

walking at night, i'd seek the moon, a dear and trusted friend. the dark would frighten me, but her gentle gaze hypnotized, and i would sing the soothing words she spoke while leading me home.

when i slept, i dreamed of flight, pursuit, and loss. i dreamed of war, survival, and sacrifice. i saw the indomitable nature of the human spirit, and the spirit of nature which informs us.

i felt fear with these dreams, but in time a language came, and the fear subsided– but with it, so, too,

the astonishment. a new fear settling in with age.

understanding:

the weapon against

wonder.

you see,

when i say that i grew up queer,

i mean

that i grew up a child.

that is to say, i marveled at the newness.

i felt easily, welcoming the unknown with a beckoning hand, ready to learn what it meant by extending space.

i followed my conscience, seeking justice fiercely for myself and others. an advocate with a steady hand.

i constructed without worry, building worlds safer to me and my friends.

a buoy, a lifeline, a raft

for not only myself.

i turned lemons into lemonade

and passed cups out to my neighbors.