If I Could Be Me
If I could be me-openly
I mean, If could really be,
By magic or another means,
be who I wanted to be

There are many ways I would be me.
I’d be a girl in slick, shiny clothes
With curly tight locks, and rock
The world with my looks.

If I could look in books, and
Find how I could express me
And change, until I tired of those looks,
Into what I liked, I’d like to look
Cool whenever I wanted to be someone
I’d like to be.

Sexuality should not be pinned, but expressed in
Fluidity, an art to express, not fear nor
Arrest by psychology, judgmental hypocrisy.

Personality should be molded by love in absence
Of critical analysis, but rather in sympathy, symphonic, harmonic simplicity.

I would make an oath, not to harm by
Close-minded sneers, condemning others
I show my fears;
I’d not harm by words or active work to peg those into spaces where they do not go.
I’d accept as I am accepted with no
Exception by all assembled witnesses,
Swear and by all my actions, only
Allow my love to show.

If I could be me
I’d be other kinds of people,
Like friends, and those who shine
Their light.

If I were male and liked a guy
I’d be able to go and say, “you are
So beautiful to me.” And he’d appreciate
Without fear, or hurting words or hate.

If I were another race,
I could express myself in any space.
Not be put in a place I shouldn’t be,
Not judged by what someone might
Want me to be.

If I dressed in charming styles
I could feel neither fear nor stress.
I could be me.

If I walked all dressed in black
No-one would say I was sad if I
Were happy to express in clothes
How I wanted to feel in my body’s soul.

But if I were sad, and needed a boost
I’d be who I’d need to be without
Condemnatory stare or fluent bigotry.

Phases come, and aging grows, and
Life is shortened by hate and unnecessary
Care, and many die unloved, unseen
But our light must be seen,
And sparks of fire must grow.

The heaven many claim exists
Is truly where those who love,
Not by shaming, but by expressing
The full manifestation of wholesome things.

The gift of love brings hope’s fruition,
The lift of love brings light and dark’s attrition

And without fail, where all are given their heavens;
The self is lifted, one’s soul
Is gifted by the breath of God
Rustling in one’s wings.