Root

United States

Hi! I’m Root (they/them), 15
I’m a published author now, that’s cool. I also run, program, and read.

Message to Readers

Any help with rhythm would be especially appreciate but I love any sort of feedback :)

A Silent Non-binary Protest

April 15, 2020

I am told to write a poem. 
“This month, give us the world re-made whole.”
I sit down. I breathe. 

And I rage. I cannot give a world re-made whole. 
And I writhe. I cannot make a world re-made whole. 
I growl, I scream, I stutter with sickening anger. 

I write about family. I write happy endings. 
I erase. 

My mother calls from the other room,
“Daughter! Daughter, come look!”
My sister tells a story about me and I smile
Until I hear them once again
“And...she told me...she did!”
And my heart sinks farther. 

I lean back in my chair, eyes hurting. 
I close my eyes, stomach roiling. 
I pick up the pen, heart drumming. 
I cannot write a world re-made whole. 

I begin to write it anyway,
Always doing it anyway,
“The enby lived happily ever after.”
I erase. 

In the other room, my father calls:
“Deadname! Deadname, come look!”
And my mother hunches over at night, eyes wet.
“Where did we go wrong with her?”

I begin to cry as I continue the poem.
“No, the enby didn’t.”
“And GSA isn’t here anymore.”
“And with it left the pride.”
“But they sit down to write a poem.”
“A poem they can’t write.”
“How can this pen create a truth when they’re not sure what that is?”
“How can this irrational heart be put to a cause?”
“How can this lost family be taught to support them?”
“How can this withering world be rebuilt for them?”

“They would prefer to be in college.”
But alas,
They are at home,
Sitting at their desk,
Holding their pen,
Hearing she’s and her’s,
Supportive friends miles away,
And they cannot write a world re-made whole. 

But, for the sake of the poem, 
They will live a happy ending. 
They will go to college. 
They will turn the quiet rage into a protest. 
A silent genderless protest. 
They cannot write a world re-made whole,
But maybe in their future, they can fight for one. 

So there it is. The world re-made whole. 
Not given fairly, or willingly,
Or very happily,
But the enby was always a fighter. 
And so while the withering, roiling, crashing
World had not been rebuilt for them,
They forced it to come instead. 
And so they fought;
They fought for a world re-made whole.
The second draft of my first poem! Thank you to all of you who left reviews; they were all really appreciated and I tried to make sure I included the changes that would enhance the poem :) Once again, please be harsh with your feedback; I realize I have a long way to go still and honestly I’m glad to receive any type of feedback. Thank you so much!

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