Journey to Ixtlan

I find the discussions of trans identity (gender, race, religion, species, entity) to be fraught with peril for those strongly denying the leap between bases. A “Trans free” environment denies the possibility of transforming. It disallows discomfort and welcomes cold sameness. Often the strongest critics care nothing about the comfort of the trans person. They instead feel their own pain as reality is questioned in uncomfortable ways. The poem “Comfort in Another” is about the dynamics of seeing comfort in another reality, and how denial of trans identity comes at great peril to ourselves.


Comfort in Another
Poem for Day 169 – 20150618

The trans exists outside,
with no staid reference
grounding them here.
Existing between worlds,
escaping and longing,
native in one, comfort in another.

When is the difference real,
a product of a larger world,
not shared by sect?
Seeking solace outside of base,
properties shared as a bridge,
familiar alien until itself.

Escape is only possible
when the outcome found
is larger than that disowned.
A madness, disillusion of the self,
finding wholeness
against the wishes of common folk.

Violation of nature at risk,
until the curtain is pulled aside
revealing all to be outside.
The comfort of the whole
trumps the self identity,
pain held by the lonely one.

The door is cracked,
held open by the one,
with madness screaming outside.
The one hears nothing,
only sweet assurances muting
psychic scream of inner voice.

Facts made plain to sight,
figures dictated to record,
yet the door still exists.
Violation of cold assurance,
cracks in silken space,
sanity the last line of defense.

The trans exists outside,
if the illusion is correct,
pity the soul embracing this.
Solace only exists in bound chains,
for we are all longing,
native in one, comfort in another.

© 2015, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved.