Poèmes

I stand at the very beginning of my life – this is how I feel at 25. I stand on the precipice of something new, something bright, a moment of my life that holds incredible potential. I stand atop a cliff, yearning to set off and fly, but always with the fear that I might…

Tonight it is not hard for me to understand how my ancestors looked at the sea and saw a portal to the otherworld: the water pearly blue, in places almost white, and the mist of the sun catching the shore in its thighs; the scent of the seaweeds, and the gold spun in the waves;…

When I am dead – I tell my friends – I want to become the rain. I want my body to be laid in a meadow where rain never stops pouring. I want to lie on the grass – and forget – forget the world and, then, myself. I want to melt into the drops.…

Internalized ableism is not something I was born with. Not something I was meant to carry, not something that was meant to be mine. It comes from outside, and I took it in long ago. I shaped it with my emotions, and my words, and my thoughts. I gave it an anchor, forever, in my…

People on the internet say that healing is slow and non-linear. They say that we should be soft, kind and compassionate – that it’s what a heart in pain needs. They say: Be patient, give it time. Your world will be built stronger for it. It is worth a try. All of it is sound…

Tonight is another one of those sleepless nights, when staying awake feels comfortable and right. I watch the sun rise, and tomorrow becomes today without the usual pause, the moment of unconsciousness. Those sleepless nights make life seem endless and round.

I have already lost my life to the not-knowing. Twenty-five years of time spent, wondering. Twenty-five years of time digging a hole within myself – trying to make my existing, my presence,simultaneously more and less. Now that I know – well, I have to fix everything. I have to set things right, heal the wounds…

Je vis dans un poème, un autel à la beauté sur lequel se parsème une vie en morceaux. Tout en effigies, symboles et tableaux. Comme dans un film, le soleil éclaire l’eau de sa lumière saturée. En tons de bleu-vert, bleu-gris ou bleu-orangé. Je m’émerveille, je rends grâce pour la surprise qui continue. Je suis…

Quelque chose bouillonne en moi, une envie de plus, une envie de tout. Quelque chose bouillonne en moi, comme si mon sang voulait jaillir hors de mon corps et de mes veines. Je veux être faire vivre tant de choses et tout à la fois.

Il y a trois ans, j’avais la tête rasée. Trois millimètres de cheveux sur le crâne, c’était la liberté. La liberté d’être sans genre, sans étiquette. D’exister, de respirer, de ne pas me poser de questions. Aujourd’hui mes cheveux sont longs. Ils frôlent et balayent mes omoplates. Ils sont plus clairs, en reflets roux. Ils…