The battle is over, the war is won.
I walk on feet that carry me without

Touching the ground
Back to the garden my father tended

Till the day he died,
Where I fought and slew

My own darker self
For the love of a girl I no longer

Remember.

I have made the journey many times,
But now I have accepted the burden

Of curiosity and courage,
And become a man of the world-

A poet, a warrior,
Having shed and bled blood that tasted

Like disillusionment.

The moon framed in the night sky
Is both frightened and bolstered by

My purpose,
All at once lighting my way

And urging me to turn back.

I enter with my sword raised,
Then plunge it into the earth

Where I played as a child
And wept my first tears of regret.

Plants and trees sway in the wind
Whispering promises and half-truths.
I peer into the mirror my father

Planted in the center of this eden
And stare into the eyes of a man

I've never met before.
My glorious soul-twin smiles-

I have been found worthy.

I offer a silent prayer and kneel
Before my father's throne of

Weeds and ashes,
And prepare for my ascension into

Life my own.

A rose is budding, it's face upturned,

It's body taut and tall,
As beautiful as the yearnings of

A new sexuality.
I take the rose with me when I leave
To plant in a garden I will grow

And tend myself:
My father's last gift to me,
And a memento from the garden

I leave behind.