Notes About The Poem

My previous poems prior to Bone Chiller and Coming Home were written in the midst of the turmoil I experienced in dealing with dysphoria. As my mind was settled, all of my fears had to get dragged out of the closet, reprocessed, and put away again in a new organized order.  This is the reality of every trans woman.  First they deal with the dysphoria and then they go through hell to align themselves with their true identity.  Coming Home is the second of a series of gender and mental health poems I will be writing.  This poem breaks with the steady rhythm slightly and uses slant rhymes intentionally to represent the cracking of the mold and the driving fear I was in at the time.  Debra

 

 

Coming Home

Coming Home

Sitting alone on the moving train, with heavy thoughts upon my brain.
The cabin lights begin to dim, I shed the ghost, I am not him.
My mind goes dark while the car stays lit, because I know the truth of it.
And as the driving rhythm rolls, I climb out of the ten-mile holes.

I claim my space and leave behind, the quiet wreckage of the mind.
I sift the ashes and the bone, for truths that I call my home.

Tonight I'll sleep in my own bed, without demons dancing in my head.
For tonight I swear the demon's lair, is no longer filled with Satan's air.
The remnants of the days gone by take yield to bluer skies,
and from the wreckage of the mind, the woman starts to rise.

I make no promise, I make no claim, the devil dwells in his domain.
To turn around and look for blue, where reddened skies are breaking through.
I know my heart, the battle's won, the heavy, bleeding work is done.
I leave behind the life I knew, and stand my ground, for I am true.

O Lord my God, the war is through, there's nothing left for me to do.
I wish the world could finally see, the truth that You have known in me.

Tibi fideliter,
Debra
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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