Poem: Just Embrace

 

JUST EMBRACE

 

By Rula Sinara

(written June 2022)

Excerpts included in the bestselling book The Trans Anthology Project , Aug 23, 2024)

 


Between the realms of life and death,

we are given—and give—the gift of breath.

The gift of children who’ll grow old and wise,

like a tree, majestic no matter its size.

Grounded and strengthened in its truth.

It requires no proof.

Because what the mind and soul has said,

is more powerful than what’s written or read.

A weathered, old branch,

dead.

 

But peering from the dancing grass,

a fragile stem, suckering past the

sharp blades.

Shielded by canopy.

Urged on by memory.

A new legacy.

 

Just embrace

 

From summer to fall.

a new face.

Emeralds and jades to garnets and rubies.

A transformation of barren beauty.

But for all we see,

the roots of that tree

still run deep.

Unchanged.

Mind and soul.

For a rose by any other name, is our same

little sweet.

Ten fingers.

Ten toes.

A pulsing heartbeat.

 

Hear them.

See them.

Say their name.

There is nothing to lose, but so much to gain.

Whether oak or orchid, or in between,

let their leaves unfurl.

Let them be seen.

Let their branches stretch towards sun and sky.

Be in their moment.

Don’t ask why.

 

Just embrace

 

Their love, their grace.

Their strength and undiscovered power.

Love them every second and every hour.

With all reason, in every season.

 

For we grew our children from

water and seed.

We tended to their

every need.

We’ve helped their roots spread and drink.

We think we’ve taught them how to think.

A mere seedling saturated and drowned by

everything plus the kitchen sink.

 

Life

 

We urge them to think

outside the box,

till tiny toes,

wriggling like worms in dewy grass,

trespass.

So, we mold them into shoes and socks

and stash away the keys to locks

that save face.

No time or place.

No voice or trace.

 

Forbidden

 

But control is a faulty goal.

It depletes and drains.

A muddy sinkhole.

It kills the spirit and tortures the soul

and

it takes its toll,

in life

or across the river Styx.

There is no magic or potion to mix

to fully heal the damage done

to needs neglected or children shunned.

Shun instead the poisonous hate.

The ignorance and judgement

It’s not too late

Before it’s too late

 

Just embrace

 

And know that

stones and sticks may harm,

but words have power.

Like a bomb,

ticking, taunting

till they explode.

Or

words lift and move a heavy load.

Fire can warm,

but through a forest or grove,

nothing but ashes left.

Theft

of life.

Stolen joy and pride.

Crumble and hide.

 

Crushing chest.

Love put to the test.

Ignorance without reason.

They’ll never look right, sound right.

They’ll never season.

And years struggling to undo the damage

done.

Craving approval from the one,

whose words burned like a merciless sun.

Giving life, yet taking some.

Leaving them feeling

undone.

 

Shrinking

behind a silent wall.

Shutting out one and all.

The calm before the storm.

The quiet before the fall.

The fear.

The dread

of bloodshed.

Of listlessness in bed.

Hanging on by a thread.

To cradle and rock in agony,

begging

come to me.

 

But a broken bough doesn’t always fall.

Bend.

Catch it,

cradle and all.

For that which bends will not break.

That is what’s at stake.

 

What kind of world has apathy toward empathy?

Why can’t we learn from history?

It’s an unconscionable evil to steal peace of mind.

Security and serenity are for all living kind.

 

Just embrace

 

Words are free

to hate or love.

To pull out roots

and chop above.

Or

to nurture and feed.

To grow that seed,

using love the world so desperately needs.

For the past is easy to fit in a mold,

but the future is vast and harder to hold.

To learn is to let that power unfold.

Knowledge.

Understanding.

 

We say,

be true,

be real.

So, let’s see that truth

and read what’s real.

What medicine and science reveal.

Don’t get stuck in the past.

Be realistic.

Prevent the anguish of another statistic.

Winter, spring, summer and fall

Catch their tears when they fall

after a rain.

Refrain,

from causing pain.

 

Just embrace

 

Walk in another’s shoes.

Much in life is not what we choose.

Why judge who should win or lose?

Life is all encompassing.

It’s not about scorn or shame.

Only the self-righteous are to blame.

Death and rebirth,

name to name.

Love of a babe is still the same.

 

All ages…infant or prime…

waste not time

on doubt or hate.

Blooming is never too late.

Shouldn’t love weave into everyone’s fate?

 

Nature didn’t get it wrong.

The air vibrates with bird song.

From countless species and colors of wings,

every bird…every being…has the right to sing.

To live and stretch and fly high.

There is no right or wrong or why.

Each song resonates with a different soul.

From birth to death, a different goal.

From seed and egg, a destiny.

Just let it be.

There is nothing more fundamental to life,

more precious or beautiful,

than diversity.

Don’t blame nature.

 

It’s society

 

With boxes and rules and expectations,

to quell the fear of variation

of darkness and the unknown.

But we’ve boldly been where no man has gone

before.

So, what more?

What’s needed to understand

that when our children feared the dark

we took their hand.

We held them through the night.

We didn’t question wrong or right.

Because we knew that at the heart of the matter,

it didn’t matter.

Only love mattered.

 

We just embraced.

 

Be the boulder,

snow-laced,

by the barren tree, on the ground.

Anchoring, and like a hound,

protecting.

Stay put when its branches reach down

in a storm.

Keep it warm

when winter comes.

Radiate the rays of sun.

 

Let their souls stir and sing,

like birds in spring.

None lesser.

None better.

Each transformation captivating,

like redbud flowers blossoming

straight from wood.

Forget the expected and the ‘should’.

Children are the future.

Change is good.

 

And life is a fundamental right.

No one need hide in the bitter darkness of night.

No one forced to beg to JUST BE.

To exist rightfully…fully.

To explore and discover who they’re meant to be.

The glorious rainbow

and all between.

Let them be loved.

Let them be seen.

 

We should live to the beat of one drum.

Human

We should dance to the rhythm of one heart.

Not apart.

Together.

Like the root tips of groves touching like toes.

Maple and oak branches entwining like fingers around that rose.

Love knows.

 

Love forgives.

Intention, effort,

mean everything.

And that old, weathered branch,

mistaken for dead?

Blossoming.

 

Just embrace.