I stand in the snow,
feeling the coolness soak through
the shirt that now fits me,
the body that now feels like home.
The chest rises and falls
with each breath,
no longer foreign,
but as real as the earth beneath my feet.
The snow pours down harder,
and it feels like the world is washing me clean,
reminding me that this skin,
this chest,
this face,
are mine to feel.
To be in the rain as the man I always was
feels like the earth itself is recognizing me.
The seasons turn,
and I feel them all.
The warmth of the sun,
the sting of the winter cold,
the moist embrace of spring.
Each one marks my body
as a place of belonging,
a place where the weather and I
have always been meant to meetâ
a body,
a soul,
a man.