Fabric into which we were born
Threads of silk and soft gold hold
Coddling with God’s breath
A home upon infant skin
Looming over and dressing
Holding and protecting
Blessings with potential
Owning the clothes we wear
These robes grow with us
Life brings tightness and itchiness
Makes us readjust to fit
As an instinct to find comfort
For a short while then the world is right
Difference is cute
Adjustments are praised
Exclusivity is pawed at
Then it happens, the clothes are those
Which no one else seems to wear
Discomfort against the skin
Starts to surface again
But this time irritation
From not looking like others
With all of their colorful ribbons
And beads and pearls
And so sometimes there surfaces
Hatred for one’s own attire
Cutting and scratching it off
Praying to remove the ugly
There always will be times of loneliness
Guessing others see us as frightful
While judging their attire ourself
Praying for acceptance into the clan
But, then, sometimes, compassion
Like a white thread woven in blue tapestry
Helps us find beauty in the unique
A magic cape no others can fly with
There is a sacred insight from within
These clothes can only fit one
Made of silk and soft gold for the babe
Still and always a flattering and suitable fit
There always will be times of joy
Where there’s pride in what is worn
Showing it off to the self as a dance
In the fabric of alternate embrace.
This is my journey,
— Nate Long “Owl”