As a single mother, my life of necessity revolves around my kids and it just so happens that i have three lovely girls who give me perspective and challenge  my worldview and have had a resounding impact on the person I am today. 

But I didn’t always have three daughters, I started off with two daughters and a son. 

 

My second child would disagree with me that she was ever  my son. She was merely hiding.

She was watching and waiting. She was testing the water for 15 long years until she finally took up the courage to reveal herself. And, oh, what a beautiful swan she is! 

 

Oisin was her name before this remarkable metamorphosis. Oisin, my little deer. She never really took to the name, as it goes. The Spanish kids called her Ocean. And nobody had a chance in hell of actually being able to read it. But….I loved that name. 

I lost the name and I lost my little boy. It is a kind of grieving process. There is shock and really, a sense of bewilderment. I guess its the loss of childhood. Talking about her childhood gives her deep pain. She cannot look at old photos, photos that make me ache but only make her cringe. 

But, with her blossoming into the amazing and beautiful woman she is today, i put that grief behind me, relegate it to the airing cupboard. It’s just not needed. There is too much to be joyful about. She is happy and stable. She loves her new body and her boyfriend. 

I see Ashleigh here in this quote: ‘everything that exists is thought to come from the spirit world, androgynous or transgender persons are seen as doubly blessed, having both the spirit of a man and the spirit of a woman. Thus, they are honoured for having two spirits, and are seen as more spiritually gifted than the typical masculine male or feminine female.’

But still i have these poems about Oisin and her sister Molly that remain mine alone. They are set in our home which was a small village in the mountains south of Granada. It was and is, a paradise for kids. It is at the end of a valley with one road leading in. There are: dogs,cats, chickens, kids, old ladies chatting, a small seasonal river, orange and lemon trees, an unchanging annual pattern of festivals and traditions. A very difficult place for a transgender child to come out in!

 

So, I present to you, my poems! There are two from 2006 and another more recent poem which I wrote for my eldest daughter, Molly, who has also really made me appreciate how lucky i am in this life. She suffers from severe anxiety and maybe Borderline Personality Disorder. Her days are filled with crisis...her moods swing wildly and she finds coping with the things that we take for granted profoundly difficult. I find her resilience and ability to bounce back inspirational. She lives in Granada.

Bayacas January  2006

There is no end to it all

I do not want this dream to finish

You two are just perfectly so

How rubbish life would be,

Has been, before you.

 

I stood on the balcony today

Hanging out your clothes

When the school bus appeared

I waited and everything 

was certain and I knew 

I’d smile.

And I did.

 

I heard your silly chattering

Advising of your imminent arrival.

And there you were!

A disheveled little monkey

Your grubby anorak hanging from your elbows,

Full of joy, light,energy.

I called your name,

‘Hola,Osh’ ‘Hola, Oisin’

And you noticed me.

And your grin was grand and great and gorgeous!

 

And I wanted to be a huge full bellied

Opera singer

To sing praise to you

My boy wonder

My maker of chocolate factories

My Little Deer.

Bayacas August 2006

Abejo, Avispa, Gollosina,

These words I’ve learnt

 this summer.

This beautiful summer,

When swallows dipped in and out of our windows, almost casually.

When i paused to listen

For your voice in the street.

A little spanish girl was all I heard,

Laughing,singing, shouting.

My little spanish girl.

 

Bee, wasp, swallow

‘Speak in my language’

Oisin used to say

Now, he swims like a waterbaby,

Fearless and five

Thru water and words.

And, gets his own breakfast (messily!).

Thinking of Granada, December 2020

What goes round, comes round

For sure, I’m sure.

Little deer, Ash is snoozing at this early hour,

Only 8pm.

My eyes are heading that way.

 

Molly celebrates her birthday

In a distant land

I hold dear to my heart.

Her home, her essence

In the joyful calles and plazas of Granada.

Swinging her African braids

Pouting her instagram lips

In the corazon of it all 

Held and nurtured

By a myriad of companeras 

Felicidades my soldier child

You march on

Shoulders erect

Fighting your battle

Like a true Amazon.

 

But your war is not externally destructive

It is a battle that 

Continues within

On a daily horario

But today

You win

You win 

You win.

© 2019 by THE RABBIT'S RIOT THEATER COMPANY.