I am summoned into court
The month of September
Being transgender is the trial to be fought
The jury doesn't know how to handle the situation
And nothing is fought

I am summoned months later
The year of 2016
Being transgender is why I'm there
The jury hasn't overcame their pain
And no solution to the chain

Years later I am summoned to court
A stage in my life I couldn't ever see
Being transgender is the reason
The jury has come to an agreement
That it's okay to ease in

And suddenly, without warning-
A fire ignited inside of her

Years of dormancy
Emerging from her slumber

Starting over is some kind
of wonderful
©2020 Christina Jackson

A poem can find a dark soul at night
The rebirth I had after I sat with my plight

The demons I held onto and encompassed me with their wings
Spoke of wild, dark, and wicked things.

And I felt warm there
I felt raw
Like an ice sculpture exposed to the sun.
Slowly waiting to thaw.

Or a cocoon forgotten in winter,
Made it to spring
I climbed out of my cocoon when I put down that drink.

I spread my wings when I had enough,
Enough of men who used me to feel tough.

And I flew high above the clouds
Right before my death I looked right into my shadow.
And she said, “I’ll see you again”
“You’ve won this fight, but not the battle”

The Sun may have burned me,
But it also gave me life.

The Moon could not light up the pit,
But for an hour a day, it shed some light.

The Wind may have hurled me against my will,
But it also lifted my flight.

The Ocean may have drowned me,
But while I drowned, the ocean floor grounded me,
To show me the ocean creatures that thrived in the dark.

I have always dreamt in my dream for God to show me,
What I am and what I have become,
"Tell me why you have made me suffer,"
He gave me His silence,
And I sure did give Him mine.

I have finally realized,
In His own unmerciful way,
He was painfully showing me,
At the peak of my fight, he finally told me,
"My child, you are your own Light."

And so, I thank the Sun for burning me,
I felt the light.

I thank the Moon for not lightening the pit,
I saw my own light.

I thank the Wind for hurling me violently,
It sped up my flight.

I thank the Ocean for drowning me,
It revealed I was drowning out of spite.

I thank God for losing me in the dark,
You gave me the depth of sight,
You deafened me so I can hear the sound of the night.
You disabled me slightly so I can empathize.

Now that I have found my way in the dark,
You have finally returned my dead vessel on the shore,

As the world drink from me,
You have surprised me with an overflowing vessel that fills up night after night,

And so, my fight finally stops on this shore,
I peacefully rest my body on the sands,
I return to you this beautifully painted vessel,
That was never mine.

I grew in it a delicate rose,
That grew slowly in the dark,
I colored it red,
The blood of my plight.

The world continues to sleep soundly,
While the next child cries loudly,
As she falls hard from the sky.
Give to her my vessel,
It may appear broken and worn out,
But it is whole and sound.

I will always dream in my dream,
To wake up forever,
To a blessed vessel that is full of life.

The honey venom strikes quickly
She sinks into the earth,
into embraces of the sickly
sweet blankness, the dirt-
clotted lilies, the trembling musk
of the wind in her nostrils
eyes quivering with dusk,
with the moans of her apostles.
She thrashes through her blood,
through the smother of sunlight
through the Byzantine flood
of amber and honeysuckle,
         of nectar and twilight.

And she forgets her own name,
so she wails out strangers’.
She’s Eurydice. Persephone.
She is no one’s. She’s nameless.
Nails scratching at the soil
at the buds, at the symphony
of the viper’s tight coil.
Her name is Persephone.
And she sinks into the earth
Into the deafening silence
of the heavenly pyres
of petals and honey
        and dirt-clotted violets.

She tastes the remembrance,
She’s Cleopatra. Persephone.
She tastes love, her own fragrance
She is ready for death as she  
releases the breath
that she drank from the flames.
Her name was Persephone,
when she still had a name.
And the sweetness of pale
rose-perfume that lifts from her
is lost on the exhale,
on the glittering dawn,
         on the first breeze of summer.

Undertow
Hues of blues stretch out endlessly until they plunge into the dark depths she has no light left to explore.
It starts gentally...so quietly that at first she doesn't notice
For fishes of many colors disrupt her vision and euphoria clouds her mind.
Ever more the tides tug at her clumsy feet as she swims out further towards the dissipearing sun.
Overcome with exhaustion, the ocean's deathly touches start to caress her thighs,
akin to a lover and she surrenders to waters as if they were sheets.
The waves begin to surround her head crowning her the queen of misery.
Eyes open, lungs empty, but she savors the silence.
Holes in her soul are filled with water,
watered down,
and bleeding into blurs,
She takes her first and final breath.

I climbed high for restoration,
for the rebirth of emotions,
for the cleansing of my soul
amid the chirp of birds,
the hum of water,
the freshness of the air.
I climbed high for strength,
to find myself again,
a me without you.
I climbed high for relief
from the smiles of the everyday,
I climbed high for me,
but still,
I thought of you.