Uncertain change
is terrifying.
Those that belong
in two worlds
frighten
and confuse us.
Newts and frogs
are the stuff
of witches’ brews.

We make room for
the tadpole
or the caterpillar.
Their change is expected.
Although
the tadpole
changes
into something still uncertain
a frog
of earth and water.
At least
the caterpillar
changes
into something beautiful
a butterfly
of sky.

Now
we are asked
to accept
humans
of uncertain gender
not male
nor female
maybe changing
from one
to another
or maybe
remaining
in a non-binary world.

Like the mystic
they hear a voice
that they are something
they are not yet
and the change begins.

They seek out a trusted voice
a friend,
perhaps a guide
already further along
in their journey.

They start making
little changes;
hormone replacement,
contemplation.

They grow bolder
and tell more people.

On their journey
there will be other changes,
the way they look,
the way they present themselves
the way they think of themselves
what they are called.

Their family may reject them.
Their family may support them.
Either way
their family may not
fully understand.

They set their face
towards Jerusalem
towards an uncertain future
longing to bury their dead
and say good bye
to those that cannot follow.

Slowly,
the tadpole becomes a frog,
the butterfly emerges,
the man becomes a woman,
the woman becomes a priest.