fthc - 4:00
My father is called Miranda these days.
She’s a proud transgender woman, and my resentment has started to fade,
Because it was never about who she was, just the way that he behaved.
And now my father is Miranda and we’re OK.

In all the years we were estranged,
I was always hoping that you would find a way to change.
And after everything that we’ve been through,
Miranda, it’s lovely to meet you.

When I was young he always seemed so filled with rage;
He was angry at my clothes, my hair, my music, my teenage.
But one sunny afternoon, she was dancing next to me on stage.
I felt my anger drain away from inside my rib cage.

The problem with carrying hate
For someone who doesn’t know,
Is you’re the only one carrying the weight.
Best to just let it go,
And get to know you for who you are –
Who you really are,
And who you’ve always been.

In all the years that we have left,
Let’s be our best selves, and let’s be friends.
I’ll be me, promise me that you’ll be you.
Oh Miranda, it’s lovely to meet you.

Leave a Reply