It's the things we don't say.
The hurts we don't acknowledge.
Don't grieve

that destroy us all inside.
That perpetuate an endless,
screaming eternity

of lies stacked upon lies
stacked upon lies
stacked upon lies.

I dared to change the course
of my own history

and ours.

My fears and insecurities.
And yours. They have become
our flowers.

I refused to let any more
of all our shared timelines
be devoured

by what no longer needs
to paralyse.
To strip us all of our power

to actually love these lonely lives.
To say we are enjoying ourselves
without having to deny

that maybe in some timelines
I want to wear a dress.
Maybe in some lifetimes
none of us really have
anything that we need to repress.

No more shame.
No more fear.
No more things to reclaim.
Because we know that

we can show the world a beautiful image
only when we are all at our best.
Only when we strip away all the anger.
All the hatred.
Only when we acknowledge and honour
every demonised desire.

Only when we see
that we ourselves
are who we always aspired
to be:

a family.
Thirty long years I spent
feeling like the only place I would ever belong
was the sea.

That no one would ever truly understand
why I existed.
No one would ever accept
the gay. The neurodivergent. The non-binary

son. Cousin. Nephew. Grandson.
Eldest brother.
No one would ever want their blood
to be associated with me.

No one would ever see this godless shameful
unprofessional malisozu of a human
to be worthy of respect.
Validation.
Legitimacy

because I always autistically
talked about the forbidden.
Showed the world that the gay and the damned
never actually had to be forsaken.
I fought for my own destiny

and my own right to initiate
every kind of redemption.

And now?

We are all free

to write the words, at last,
to our own dreaming heaven.

Maybe at last,
you can finally see of your
son. Cousin. Nephew. Grandson.
Eldest brother—

that that was always
my most noble
firstborn
intention.