#defininghappiness

If I could

I’d hold her close and promise her that it will all turn out how she wants.

I’d promise her that the tears she has let fall will not be wasted

And that one day she’ll look back and laugh at how wrong her bleak view of the future was.

If I could,

I’d promise her that she’d always be safe from harm

And that all the glares and stares will stop completely

So she can walk down the street holding my hand without worrying about who’s looking.

I’d promise her a long and well-lived life,

With a woman she loves right by her side

As she achieves goals she once thought impossible.

If I could,

I’d sacrifice everything I am

And everything I will be

In order to give her all the stars in the sky,

To promise her a happy future,

To promise her that it will all be worth it.

If I could,

I’d give anything and everything to ensure her happiness.

She is the sun. Every touch that makes contact with my skin makes me feel warm, bright, and content. Her smile as breath-taking as a sunset; as awe-inspiring as a sky filled with colours that leave you speechless. Her mind and soul charming and addicting, a vitamin I could never allow myself to be deficient of… 

Every thought, moment, emotion, and touch with her can be defined by one word: yellow. 

I've never truly believed the saying

"Your body is a temple."

I'm still coming to terms with my body,

Still learning to accept it let alone regard it as a sacred place.

But yours?

It gives me reason to believe the saying is true.

My hands trailing softly down your sides must be blessed,

For, how else can they elicit such sacred sighs from your mouth?

There is something purely spiritual about the way your voice hitches,

Causing me to grin as I continue worshipping your neck.

Your skin tells stories of hardships and many lives lived,

Yet is soft and provides comfort for anyone welcomed to touch.

Your body is a temple,

As my slow journey to recovery (to some degree)

Rears its unlikely head,

I begin to take notice of things about myself;

Digging for possible triggers but discovering so much more.

Every time in the past three years

When a clock strikes 11:11,

When an eyelash falls and I catch it,

When I blow out birthday candles,

Or when someone asks me what my one wish would be,

My immediate response is

"I want to be happy."

I'm beginning to realise that it may never happen-

That I will never again experience true happiness,

Stuck instead with random bouts of fake 'happy'-

But that will not stop those 5 little words.

For me,

Discovering and embracing drag

Was like coming home.

Like a warm hug,

Long enough to quiet the screaming loneliness inside,

My skin no longer aching for human contact-

And just for those precious moments I become someone else,

I can finally breathe.

At last,

I am embracing masculinity and using it as a form of expression,

All the while cherishing my femininity after years of denying it.

I wish I could go back in time,

Tell my primary school self that we turn out okay,

That there is an opportunity out there for us to really LIVE.

This is my first step to becoming someone I would've looked up to,

All those years ago,

When the world was terrifying and uncertain.

Now,

Drag King Guy Tagane is here to make a statement

And make my younger self proud.

~ O.M.A

I’m not sure if you still remember me,

It’s been so long that if it weren’t for family members regaling us with your tales,

I wouldn’t think you existed outside of my imagination.

When I was younger and saw you more often,

I didn’t quite understand just how inspiring you are.

You were the larger-than-life woman that my dad respected very highly,

All my young mind knew was that you were my grandfather’s mother

And if we visited, an exciting 5 hour international plane flight was necessary.

I don’t even know how old you are now,

All I know is that you’re still alive and kicking,

Even after being relocated to another island to receive care for your ageing body.

Your cooking is famous-

Well-

Within our bloodline at least.

You’re the reason my childhood is filled with memories of Polynesian, Samoan, and other Pacific Islander dishes,

My dad was adamant we stayed connected to your side of the family tree with his recreations of your food.  

You’ve survived through so much,

A widowed Fijian woman whose name is well known and even slightly feared in many villages.

I remember the story about when you confronted two young men

Who were attempting to break into our car,

And how you not only reprimanded them with the force of a thousand suns

But also requested for them to cut down a branch of a nearby frangipani tree-

because you liked it and wanted to add it to your backyard.

We left and returned later,

The car still intact and a generous length of healthy frangipani branch resting on the hood.

As I’ve grown older I’ve begun to appreciate just how amazing you are,

A force now drives me to visit you again before you pass or grow too old to remember things,

Whether it be tips on surviving with strength or your cooking recipes,

Because I will fight to keep your story alive even when you’re long gone.

This is the audio recording of my original piece ‘Thunderstorm’ that I wrote a while ago. 

Your smile,

Warmer than the Sun on a hot summer day.

Your skin,

Softer than any silk I have felt.

Your scent,

Sweeter and more addicting than any ‘feel good’ drugs.

Your stretch marks,

Like tiger stripes only add to the beauty of your body.

Your neck,

Soft, slender, and sensitive.

Your laugh,

Musical and beautiful, even if you don’t think so.

Your eyes,

Bright and hypnotic, even with the slightest glance I am captivated.

Your small sighs and sounds,

Quiet but noticeable as I trail my mouth up your neck.

Your voice as it hitches,

An immediate response to my hands tracing patterns on the small of your back…

I’m falling deep,