We raise our kids on words like suppose and almost.
A lifetime of Hallmark cards and empty promises.
As though identity is a multiple choice question
With only two options.

To the girl with hair too short for her liking,
And a body she does not recognize to be hers,
Do not consume the venom that drips from their lips,
Or respond to the pronouns stapled into you, as though
They know you better than you know yourself.

To the boy with the aching chest,
You are not bound by the stereotypes inflicted by society.
You do not have to justify your name to those with acid tongues,
And ‘cis’-tematic oppression carved into their hearts.

To every person
Who has taken their hearts and shoved it away in the abyss of their closets,
To every person
Who was told that their identity was like the moon
On days that it disappears from the sky,
I am sorry.

I am sorry for every mother, father, brother, and sister
Who took your identity with a mouthful of  intolerance.
I’m sorry you had to come out of hiding
From a game of Hide & Seek no one was aware we were playing,
And the tsunami of fear that ensued after it.
I am sorry that some of us could not handle your freedom to love.

To those lucky enough to feel at home
In your bodies of Adam and Eve,
Others are not so lucky.
Do not be the serpent;
be the guiding angel
For those who feel trapped in this tunnel of sin and uncertainty.
Spread the love they were once fearful to express,
And respect their right to be who they choose.
Be the ally to the world’s freedom of love.
Unlock the door for those locked in.