Transgender

It is claimed that soul may have specific gender

And, misguided, can take on mistaken frame.
Desire to return the breath to sender,
Leaves body for the surgeon's knife to maim.

Heaven is a place where soul relaxes.

It does not need to hang itself in shame.
There is no death or perspicacious taxes.
Of all that breathe there, not a one goes lame.

There no spirits glance for simple figures,

Bedecking all the bathrooms lit by light
Genetic change is but a set of figures,
For there is no sex or change in Paradise.

I can see a man whose passive and who wishes

To receive and hold what sacred life must give.
Who wants to be as strange as coral fishes,
Reshape the only life he has to live.

But when the best technology and science

Are put to mutilation's beck and call,
It seems we make the Devil's own alliance
And take a step beyond a hidden door.

A step too far, a move into the bushes,

Where feed the monsters of the savage plain.
Let the poor soul weep until he hushes
Before the cut which cannot mend his pain.

Carl Estrin