Proof of Existence

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Abstract

y’re touching me Looking for evidence of who I truly was I can’t be left at peace yet Not even at my funeral They say my body belongs to them A last chance to exorcize the devil I want to shout but my voice is gone Just like my existence was erased I can’t move I hear them laughing and cheering The bell now sounds festive while they mock my identity A single tear runs down my cheek They sealed my existence and delivered me of all evil My memories flash by me as I try to move once more This nightmare is just the beginning(Written on October 3rd, 2015)Yesterday I was informed about the death of Julia, a fellow queer

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person. She was an older trans woman who lived alone and never regained her mental strength after her family kicked her out of their house more than 50 years ago.I was told that some friends of hers are now trying to have her buried under her chosen name, and not the (male) name she was given at birth. Her biological family showed up to claim her house, her belongings, and the little money she had in the bank. Hopefully they will back off and give the rights to her friends to bury and honor her as a woman.I remembered I hadn’t shared this older poem of mine, and I decided to post it today in her honor.</article></body>

A poem about identity

The bell’s mourning tone echoes across my dream I smell the incense and the fresh flowers Footsteps surround the space A million eyes observe my body Whispers in the dark The inspection begins I can’t move while they’re touching me Looking for evidence of who I truly was I can’t be left at peace yet Not even at my funeral They say my body belongs to them A last chance to exorcize the devil I want to shout but my voice is gone Just like my existence was erased I can’t move I hear them laughing and cheering The bell now sounds festive while they mock my identity A single tear runs down my cheek They sealed my existence and delivered me of all evil My memories flash by me as I try to move once more This nightmare is just the beginning

(Written on October 3rd, 2015)

Yesterday I was informed about the death of Julia, a fellow queer person. She was an older trans woman who lived alone and never regained her mental strength after her family kicked her out of their house more than 50 years ago.

I was told that some friends of hers are now trying to have her buried under her chosen name, and not the (male) name she was given at birth. Her biological family showed up to claim her house, her belongings, and the little money she had in the bank. Hopefully they will back off and give the rights to her friends to bury and honor her as a woman.

I remembered I hadn’t shared this older poem of mine, and I decided to post it today in her honor.