we do not know what it is, can not know what it is, to be beyond our particular bodies. (as i write this i know the error of this statement, for i have gone beyond this particular body, but it is a rare occurrence, so short in duration and impossible to hold.)
this, and to be defined by our senses through the shield of these particular bodies, and as chase twichell says in her poem, horse,
i've never seen a soul detached from its gender, but i'd like to. i'd like to see my own that way, free of its female tethers. maybe it would be like riding a horse. the rider's the human one, but everyone looks at the horse.
to be subject to this accidental state of gender which is the fodder on which (through which) we experience all life, there exists the great divisiveness of i, self, and of gender too.
but unhooked, unguarded in the moment of turning toward sleep, relenting our hold on life and allowing life's gentle touch upon us, regardless of gender we are all one thing, human. we are alive, vulnerable and temporary.
