When I was a little girl,
I snuggled into my mother’s lap.
I listened to her tales
As she told me about the world.

Her sweet voice whispered
Tales of young brave
And handsome species,
‘Boys’ she called them.

My face would mirror awe
And I was told of strange movements.
“Fight? Mother, may I fight too?”
I would push my hand,
Forward
-and say, “Ha!”

A gasp,
And a hush of silence.
My hands down,
And in enveloped in my mother’s.
Her face with a frown,
Shaking her head with anger.

Every now and then the door would pound,
Angry voices and yells would filter through the air.
Looking up at my mother,
I questioned why it was so loud.

Hush, child.
Don’t beg for answers.
I’ve seen the world,
And it’s no good for your character.
Innocent as a youngling,
I never dared to question my mother.

One day,
My hand slipped.
The door burst open.

Out came a strange thing,
Face charred, glazing eyes.
My heart thumped,
Beautiful comfort drifted upon me.
“Papa?” I asked, confused with my own words.


The thing eyed me with regret,
Then turned around.
Entering again,
With a smaller version of it.

The small thing spoke, “Mama?”
My mother moved forward,
Hugging the small thing.

I saw my mother’s lips form an unusual shape.
Realizing it was happiness,
I backed away from the unfamiliar emotion.

The bigger thing moved,
Leaving the room.
My mother followed,
Yearning for the small thing.

I copied her actions,
Running close to the door.
But as I came close,
The door closed shut.

My bambi eyes,
Stared at the tall door.
Unshed tears blinded my vision.

Realization drifted upon me.

With rage, I screamed
“I wish I was a boy”

And then I was left,
All alone.
My mother gone,
Chasing her happiness.