Chaos tries to run my mind,

I'm not sure how I've

survived this long

but I'm trying not to get behind

Please, don't stay hidden

come out and see me,

help to save me

my heart isn't made of stone

When I'm on my own,

the silence is frightening....

you're the light I need to see

the voice I need to hear

There's probably no way

to keep you close,

at least you're here

to be with me now

Take my hand when

you can see I'm fading

tell me you can hear me

shout that you love me, if you can

Now that I've seen

what life is like with you

knowing my name makes me happier,

please, keep your hand on mine.

#mentalhealth #contest

The moonlight is dim,

Casting eerie shadows

Across the shoreline.

The cherry blossoms,

Sway, shiver.

Tiny ripples from the impatient wind,

Rush across the river’s surface.

Our Goddess, Aysel, offers

A prize, an acknowledgement.

“Well done, my daughters.

Our Earth is sacred,

The old man’s promises

Are hidden deceit.

Keep your ears, eyes open,

And dip your toes in the

Magnificent waters.

Beware my warnings…

Our Earth is marvelous,

Thriving with the effort

Of kindness understood,

Shared freely.”

Aysel, stands there,

Naked before the lot of us

To reveal our similarities,

And keep our attention

Under the moonlight,

We bond with her, share

Secrets and stories of

Love affairs, compromising situations,

Worries and fears,

Aysel soothes them,

With gentle fingers, “I’m here, “

She sings, to soothe our souls.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note: I am working on a novella series/world building for it and I want to incorporate poetry I've written, in it. I am happy with the concept but if anyone could share any tips  on how to make it more intense / less lame at certain parts, I'm looking for critique. The Goddess does spend time with her people, in a festival-ish way. I'm unsure if I should include that in this poem. I had a daydream that the very first few pages is this poem but longer haha...I think that is me just getting excited though.

Incredible.

The wishing stairs, 

they bring me handfuls

of love and light but

in exchange,

the darkness I fight

and the nasty words 

that threaten to fly

out my mouth are supposed 

to be handed over...

I need them, I need them.

How am I going to protect myself, 

keep the predators at bay - 

with what, the flowers I didn't

crush under my dirty feet?

It's too hard.

Take your love back.

I can fight through

the angry mobs with hate

and anger, 

I'd rather die than eat up 

kindness because its rare, 

no one has it, gives it, where is it?

It's inside, no one has the key.

'It's Thanksgiving' I told myself. Images of turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy swam through my mind, causing my mouth to water. It happened to be my favorite holiday; no one needs to worry about buying presents and most of the time, in my family, everyone leaves before 11pm.

With my room above the kitchen I hear Dorothy shuffling around; an occasional bing, bang or Oops! When she's been clumsy can be heard alongside Bruce's "Hey, hey hey – don't burn the bird" jokes because of that one time, when Dorothy got drunk and just didn't care to do all the cooking like usual. It's the same this year, everyone just wants to come for the food. I don't think Dorothy actually cares, it's more about wanting the appreciation she should get. I wake up off and on from six in the morning until the time I get up because I can hear her moving around down there. I do my best to help, cooking just isn't my strong suit. Cleaning, that's my job. Sometimes Bruce will leave his ratted lazy boy and pick up some of the garbage left lying around from the kids after everyone's gone.

The clock shines 10:31 am, burning my half-opened eyes. Bruce's hearty chuckle fills the whole house, the sound of his television show muffled, too low for me to know what he's watching. As I get up my whole body aches from sleeping too long. Stretching is the only way I am able to stand up straight. The top of my head brushes the slanted part of the ceiling, causing my hair to fill with static – the short strands sticking up until I leave the attic and make my way downstairs.

The kitchen and living room are straight across from each other, the front door in between and facing the stairs I come down. Bruce turns my way without actually facing me, eyes stuck on the television screen, waiting for some exciting moment to happen. We wave at each other with less enthusiasm than someone eating a cheesy puffed rice cake.

Coffee. The robust smell is always an invitation to sit down, visit with Dorothy– hopefully make her giggle – and drink down the warmth of the atmosphere.

"Hey Maynard, try this tart" she swayed over to me, her large hips bumping into the chair, torso dangling over the table as she holds out a pumpkin tart. "Let me know what you think, I might have added too much clove" her eyes close, she gives herself a little disappointed head shake and returns to preparing the next dish for the oven.

Food, so many different ways to make it delicious and for each individual person? That has always seemed impossible to me. Dorothy amazes me every time, everyone finds something they enjoy at these holiday dinners.

The first bite of the tart is delicious, Dorothy turns around after she hears me groan and take a sip of my coffee. "Dorothy, my girl, you've done it again" I love to see her smile, my enthusiasm is always a little exaggerated. "Everyone's gonna be fighting over them" I can't help but grin when she giggles.

"Maynard, you're too much! now go, try to get your uncle off the couch" she sighs, exasperated. "We still haven't gotten the tables from the basement, can you help him with that?" I love the way she asks, always patient and most of the time, kind. No one's perfect, she always reminds me of that. Everyone has a feeling, a thought for everything. Sometimes it isn't so significant, but other times it's passionate and it can even become unbreakable.

"Yes, ma'am" I wiggle a little at her, to get just one more smile. The rest of the day will become hectic, getting Bruce to leave the television can be difficult at times. I finish the tart, take another few gulps of my coffee and head into the living room. "Hey Bruce, you ready to get the tables?"

"Yea, yea. Just give me a minute" he sighs, covering the bottom of his face with his hand as if it's the most difficult task in the world.

"Okay but, people are going to be arriving in a few hours, probably two or three." When I remind him of how much time he's got, it usually helps motivate him to get going. Bruce is a lazy guy but if he promises to do something, he'll do it. Plus he makes a lot more money than Dorothy and I do, they share endlessly. I don't mind doing more to take care of our home.

A year and a half ago. That's when it all started, I overheard someone at school talking about how their cousin came out as transgender. It was the first time I heard that word along with someone talking about it positively. Love, understanding and most of all, respect was a big part of that strangers life. That's what I desperately needed. So I befriended that girl and was introduced into a whole knew understanding of gender. It is still surprising that it didn't take me long to identify with being trans. I have waited to tell people though, especially my parents. They love[d] having a girl, all the family photos there she (me, he) is, wearing a classy pink ensemble that my mom helped me pick out. Approved of. I did look cute, until I got older. I looked how I felt; like a little boy in a pink dress who kind of likes it but would rather look like Papa. Most of the pictures I remember seeing are of me staring right up at him, admiring his prickly chin and strong shoulders. I want, always, to be like him.

Dorothy is the kindest and most understanding person in my whole family, when I talked to her about all of it I knew there was a chance she wouldn't understand it but the drive she has to understand and love unconditionally makes up for it. It didn't take her long to call me back and invite me to stay with them until I figured out what I wanted to do. Our first face to face conversation about me becoming male, becoming me, was intense. 'It all comes back to love,' she had said 'if you love someone, you love all of them. Even if you don't understand them, if it requires a change within yourself to be a better person, you need to try. It's what we all have to do for the ones we have in our lives, we have to do it for humankind.' I told my parents I would be staying with Dorothy and Bruce for the summer after graduation, it turned into finding a college here and living with them while I attend school. It's been a few months, my parents are going to learn the truth about who I am tonight. I hope they understand that I needed space to really figure out if this is who I am.

A commercial comes on the t.v., Bruce pushes himself up and stomps towards the basement door with his hands on his hips. "Let us men go do the heavy lifting" he grunts, opening the door dramatically. Dorothy snorts and giggles, turning to watch him disappear.

I follow Bruce to where the tables are, it takes a few minutes to bring the four of them upstairs. We set them up along the length of the kitchen, find twenty-four chairs and set the table. Dorothy and Bruce renovated their kitchen after their daughter died three years ago. Cooking was something all of them did together, even if Bruce just sat at the table and told them stories while they cooked. The money they had saved for her college was used to create something everyone would remember her by. One of the requirements was to have a big enough kitchen to sit everyone in our family, plus more. It's my favorite space in the house. Even when it is empty, all I have to do is glance in that direction and I remember all of the good times where my family and I bonded. The anxiety I have about telling everyone about my transition creates a doubt in my mind, telling me that I may be rejected, that this will be the last family dinner we will have because of me. Dorothy tells me that isn't true but I think she is scared of that too.

"Maynard, I need your help with the potatoes" she calls out to me just as I am finished with the last table.

When I rush over, she motions to the pot on the stove and I carry it over to the sink, draining it. The steam rushes over my face, it feels good until it starts burning my nostrils. Dorothy shakes her head, pulls me back and I place the pot onto the stove. "There ya go, anything else I can do?"

"Tons, you can mash these and then bring them to the table" she hands me a potato masher and I wait until she's added the rest of the ingredients before fixing them. We give each other silly glances, to keep us smiling.

An hour goes by before everything is done and almost everyone has arrived. Coats cover the banister, closet and floor. A few of the kids slip and fall, get up and start laughing their heads off. I remember being like that. I don't remember what is so funny about falling though. When Papa see's me, he understands that something about me is different. "What happened to your long hair?" He asks, I look up at him and try to smile but the emotions I feel overwhelm me, he embraces me and reminds me "I love you."

"I love you too" I force out, I'm still his child, I'm still loved.

When Mom see's me, it's different. Porcelain wrinkled cheeks grow pink and her eyes go wide. I know she's unhappy when she grabs her napkin and twists it around her dainty fingers. "You look good, I'm happy you've gained some weight" she smiles, trying to keep her worry hidden. I know she will have a harder time understanding than my father, she might cry, she might walk out. The other people in my family, well...it's hard to tell. It's hard to do this, to make people understand that me being who I am is the most important thing in the world.

Everyone takes their seat, Dorothy and Bruce sit across from Mom and Papa, I'm at the head of the table, in between the two. The only ones who know about my transition are Dorothy and Bruce, both of them have accepted me. No one else knows that my voice has gotten a bit lower and I have more confidence. When I was Sammy, I was never heard.

"This year, Maynard is going to carve the turkey" Dorothy blurts out, unaware that she has used my preferred name...Which happens to be my deceased grandfather's name.

Papa looks up at me, I know he has so many questions. When I stand, everyone else understands that Dorothy means me. I reach for the utensils to carve the turkey, "Okay, thanks Dorothy – So, I have been learning about myself the past year and a half" I start, I see my mother grab onto my father's hand underneath the table. "I've been able to meet people who know a lot about being transgender and if you don't know what that means..." I stop, the words are getting jumbled in my head for a moment. Bruce pats my arm, reminding me that no matter what, I still have support. Carving the turkey isn't so difficult, my eyes are locked on the juicy white meat. "I was born female, you all know me as Sammy but the fact is, inside...I'm a male. I've never truly enjoyed being completely feminine." When I look around at the others in our family, I find most of them nodding and hopefully, genuinely understanding me. My mother and some of her brothers don't, the eldest even growing red in the face with anger. "I've always looked up to my father and his dad, I chose Maynard to be the name I use now because grandfather has always been special to me. I hope everyone will understand and love me just like they have been because inside, I'm always going to be who I have been...Just more confident and masculine." The meat is all cut up, everyone is passing food around and I sit back down.

"So...this transition," my Mother starts, "do you understand everything you have to go through? There are surgeries, you won't be able to have children" her bottom lip quivers, I can tell she has more questions.

"I do understand, top surgery is what I will do first" my voice is calm, unlike before where I would have been stuttering and searching for the strength to speak. "I don't want to carry a child, I can adopt and there are other ways" I try to sound sensitive about this topic, I did want children when I was younger but that's because I thought that was normal, I thought it wasn't optional. Of course making a decision like this is difficult but for my health and safety, carrying a child could only feed my gender dysphoria and would likely make postpartum depression significantly more intense.

"So, you're going to be a male who likes males?" My eldest uncle calls out, crudely. "Or does this mean you're still... one'a those bisexual folks?" He chuckles, attempting to make a joke out of the whole situation. No one laughs.

"Sexuality is completely different, everyone knows I'm bisexual, that part doesn't change for me" I say, Dorothy looks up at me, nodding and giving me more strength to continue on. "I'm not here to talk about my sexuality"

Papa stops him from saying anything else "Maynard has been through a lot, we all understand that – it's going to take us a while to figure this out but we can do it. If you can't and refuse to try, my child doesn't need you in his life" his voice is firm, calming anyone whose gotten riled up by my Uncle's comments.

Mother is confused, she looks up to Papa as he speaks and her head shakes. "I don't know how to accept this" she cries out, "Why do you have to choose this?" Her eyes are filled with fear and pain. "Is this my fault?" She looks up at me, struggling to hide her heartache.

"Mom, it's not a choice and it's not your fault. It just..." I sigh, rub my face. I'm not going to cry. "If you want to understand more, I have books and information that can explain much better than I can. I need you and Papa" she doesn't look at my face when I tell her I need her. It feels like my family is slipping away. Will she force Papa to excommunicate me? "Look at me, this isn't something to be afraid of. I understand you might feel like you are losing a daughter but I am still here, I'm right here" I feel like I am begging her to keep me.

"Darling, it will take time to understand but you can't be angry with him" Papa says, stroking her hair so affectionately. I love it when Papa refers to me as male.

"But she was so girly growing up, up until now" she tries to argue but Papa shakes his head.

"Even I understand that he has been doing that for you" he speaks quietly, "It's time for us to do this for him."

Mom is quiet, I understand she doesn't know what to say and my Uncle just shakes his head, infuriated because he is unable to speak his ignorant mind.

Dorothy shakes her head, unbelieving of moms side of the family. "In this house we love! If you can't understand love and respect...you can get out. Maynard will be staying with us while he goes to school, any of you can come visit and learn more about all of this" she huffs, flipping her braid to her back. "I can't believe any of you would act like this. This is our baby right here, our youngest. He is just as important as any of our other children."

I walk around the table to embrace Dorothy, when I catch a glance of my Uncles they all seem to have calmed down. I can't help but wonder if it's just because they're hungry and don't want to leave the food.

When I return to my seat Papa pats my back "I'm proud of you" he whispers, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. "I understand why you had to come out here, my sister is the best" he nods towards Dorothy and promises me he will stay later to help clean up and talk.

The biggest secret I've ever had has been let go, it's out in the open. I can be myself freely even if a few of them don't understand. My situation is good, it could be better but I'm one of the lucky ones. No one in my family is going to beat me, tell me to die or any of the other horrible things some of my friends have had to go through. Even though the atmosphere feels tense, there is a sense of relief and happiness. I am thankful for all of it.