The Woman in Me
Expelled from within with each muscles squeeze
Nouns and pronouns along with a preposition or two.
Mingle with verbs, adverbs and colorful adjectives to
Reds and yellows mixed with brilliant orange hues,
Flowing in streams, driven by a continual breeze.
While the method of conveyance is equal on each side,
Some opt to ride the cells going to the right,
The shy and secretive for there is stability and safety there.
While the majority take highway that leads to the left,
eager to move on to the adventures that lay outside.
The right side filled beyond its capacity back a few years.
To the point where words and phrases long hidden there
Began to wiggle and squirm looking for a way out.
Some were small and found the opening called the keyhole.
While others formed a chain, and slipped under the door.
The door is still closed, and probably will never fully open,
But those that have surfaced, to me are not new.
Words like, sexuality, gender, depression and unsure
Have been long locked in there, my personal cross to bare.
Which for some reason now, I have chosen to share.
I made my choice, some fifty-five odd years ago
To live my life as the physical gender that I was born.
Knowing but never telling my mother, who did so long
She did have a daughter, it just arrived in the wrong form.
She wanted one to call Nancy, but I prefer Dee Dee.
Dee Dee you see, is the best form of therapy there is for me.
She takes the words and thoughts that slip out from the right
Blending them with the colorful array expressed by the left.
To create stories, some short, some long, and poetry too,
That allows the woman in me, to tell her stories to you.
©May 20, 2015
Written for me
By: D. D. Story
