The Star Among the Trees – A Poem

I came out to myself, first.

It happened in the forest

that I would retreat to

when I closed my eyes.

There was a word for people like me.

The crows would call out the name to each other

and it sounded like home.

The way the crows said the word was like music,

instead of the rush of violent wind that would

burn and hurt

when others spoke the word like a

slap

across my face.

I was unsure whether the forest would accept me,

or if I wouldn’t be able to find acceptance,

even from myself.

The forest held mirrors tucked

into the branches and they watched me

like eyes amongst the dark.

I could see pieces of myself,

fragments of who I was,

who I pretended to be.

Going deeper into the trees,

their pine needles and leaves brushing my skin,

I came a star tucked into path.

It shone so brightly that the soil that I walked upon

was alight with the possibility of something different,

where I didn’t have to be afraid of who I was.

There were scuff marks along the stars surface,

as if the trees had tried to cushion its fall.

I stood there,

the cries of the crows in the distance,

looking at the star

knowing that if I took hold of it,

people would

stare, point, glare, judge, hate, destroy, misunderstand, hurt, ridicule, mock, fear

me because I would shine brighter than others,

a whole rainbow of colours,

but I knew that there were others who would love me.

The wind brought me the music of the stars above me

shining down at one of its brethren

fallen to the ground to bring comfort.

I reached down at took hold of the star,

dug my fingers into the dirt

so that I could feel the dirt and gravel under my fingernails

and pulled the star free.

That night in the forest,

I chose to no longer lie to myself.

As I gently opened my eyes,

I could the sounds of the crows around me and the soft music

of a shooting star.