It’s morning.

Somewhere, a tiny distant flutter

searching, moving

appears with intent.

Gently finding its way into

a flower filled with sweet nectar

it holds its lament.

There’s a past and present hunger unseen

to you

to me

Steadily, it holds its body

briefly suspended in place

Then it shifts

A change in position, a new perspective

an angle that once worked

one day won’t

Reworded now

It’s mourning,

I meant

For the past self

this body in transition

The before me, the present me

and all that comes after

On a tough day, so far from home

I write

and I paint

the seen and unseen

Felt by me, felt by you

unquantifiable

indescribable weight that I wish I could

take away,

all at once.

On a journey with no guide

with no end

I hope the hummingbird provides

a temporary respite.

This is for you

my beautiful sister,

This is for you, my Winter.

Jay Lynn Gomez is a queer poet and artist.