Poem: Flowers Of Fire

Today, I am not stuck in what you think of me-
This exhausting, endless loop of trans-misogyny
Not broken and what I ought to be

Today, I feel so inspired
So pure of fire and flesh
Like tearing, blooming flowers
So pink and grey and pink again
That I cease to be
Woman or man or woman again

Today, I am not stuck in what you think of me-
This exhausting, endless loop of trans-misogyny
Not broken and what I ought to be
My existence refusing to punctuate the air with apologies
You see me as
Filth
Full of mistakes
Reeking with fallacy
But I sing for the power in things that you don’t believe

For you-
This must be a call for attention in the streets
But the clothes I wear don’t hang weakly on shoulders or shame or society
They’re a war cry, a fucking identity
Against the bullying, the names, the violence that reigns in your quest for our
invisibility
But this penis, isn’t always the problem, it’s this gender you see
This stuck record of a family
Saying
conform
conform
conform
instead of love to me

But
I am everything and beautiful and evolving
Many sexualities in embryos, revolving
Around my mind at once, without fullstops stopping
Free speech on tongues unyielding
I will use my hands to express and explain
The colours on my fingernails, my dress on your brain
How far we have come and how much we have lost
Between explaining who we are and what that has cost

For under all that fire, you will still find me
As undefinable,
As enraged
As complete

as all the flowers in the garden of your fears
blooming against your tyranny.

About the guest author

Nikita Mitra

A 22-year old compulsive dreamer that lives and loves in eccentricities. She's still trying to believe that fear is a hologram and writing in second person is a fun way to imagine you're someone else. Mostly does things in return for food and hugs.