At Home in My Skin

I entered this blooming

amidst a mind field

of fuzzy flat gray.

In my gut, angst said

I didn't fit or belong anywhere.

I lived alone in that forest

On the brightest days,

darkness deepened there,

water dripped from leaves

to the ground in my core.

Seeds stirred

in my dark heart.

I felt a garden growing

inside, growing denser

and taller as I aged.

I navigated

the verdant jungle of my thoughts

for 61 springs.

From the tracery of trails

between trees and the

topographic music

of chittering, skittering creatures,

I emerged, knowing who I am,

who I've always been.

Nothing from my raveled backstory

compares with my kaleidoscopic

community or the vivid 3D feel

of how fucking fabulous

it is to be me.