The rain lands softly
on the face that feels like mine,
like it's been waiting
for the sky to find it.
I tilt my head back,
letting the drops touch the roughness
of a jawline I've grown into,
the softness of a beard
that's beginning to shape itself.
The wind feels different nowâ
it dances through the strands
of hair that feel like me,
whispering secrets I've waited years to hear,
a promise that I belong here,
a human,
alive under the open sky.
The seasons embrace my face,
as if to say, "You were always meant
to feel the earth like thisâ
as a man,
as the human you are."
Each gust of wind,
each raindrop,
is not just natureâ
it is a declaration,
a recognition of my truth.
The world has waited
for this moment as much as I have.