Need no clear coast.
Stride confidently towards sunset.
People’ve always feared me.
Hated me.
Reviled me.
So used to being an object,
For others to gawk at.
From the teenager who went red in the face,
Every time I showed her kindness,
To Abrahamics who shoot me dirty looks,
In the streets.
Visible.
“See the coast clear’d, and then we will depart.”
