What kind of creature are you in the Unicorn Forest? Come play with me - please

[ErinWDK]

The last salty drops fell from their whiskers

They were home

Tears...  The tears of sadness have given way to tears of Joy...

[Tessa James]

I love to return to our Unicorn Forest as needed to sustain and support.  Recently this fairy felt more in need of that after a journey back to my ancestral home in the less rainbow colored world where old names and terms feel like straws too quickly becoming bales of hay.  Like many families, our marginalized cousins rallied and shared shoulders.  Now home again in my drippy NW rainforest i draw together with friends and the community that breathes new life and strength into ancient truths.  We are family and love is the way.

[Asche]

The old groundhog shuffles through the Unicorn forest.  It gives her joy to see creatures flitting and frollicking again.  The last few times she dragged her bones through here, the forest was silent.  The spring greened the trees, but no fairies or pixies or, for that matter, bogles disturbed the rotting leaves and needles of the forest floor.  But now she smiles (as only a groundhog can) to hear the rustle of pixie wings through bush and tree, the scamper of squirrels chasing one another or even themselves from tree to tree, and the tramp of walking bear-rug, brummeling "so vor sich hin."

For all that it is summer, usually a time of ease and comfort for the denizens of wood and meadow, the old groundhog feels none of it.  The scars of the past, having never healed, are hurting like they haven't since she was a kit.  The stubs of her wings, the notches in her legs where she gnawed off leg-hold traps, the bare patches on her back where the other groundhogs chewed their declarations of rejection;  the tooth-marks on her forelegs where she chewed to hold back the greater pains;  all call out to her and, refusing to be put off any longer, demand their due.  She still seeks out fresh green shoots and ripe berries and succulent roots, but she sees and smells and tastes and feels it all through the haze of her pain.  Her world has shrunk to: breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, take a bite, breathe in, breathe out, lap up some water, breathe in, breathe out.

A fairy calls out to her; she tries her best to smile and respond in kind and make her excuses when she can't.  There is no need to burden the happier folk with her troubles.  Let Omelas be Omelas, let her inner darkness be interred with her bones.

She is fortunate to be a mere dumb creature: for her, only the present is real.  Only today's pain need be endured. The past is past, the future too unreal to be dreaded.  She keeps moving, breathing, eating, sleeping, because her nature impels her always to the next step, the next breath.  And when, some day, the Dark Mother comes to draw her to her breast and sing her to sleep, she will know no fear, only the comfort of surcease.

[SallyChoasAura]

I'm a human with fox ears and a fox tail. I also have beautiful angle with ever changing colors until I find my true place and they finally settle on the color(s) of the right flag.🦊

[Satinjoy]

Quietly the fairy writes.

On h'er finger, the sign of h'er vows to the ciswife, the one who stayed with h'er, a twined braided wedding ring, and a one carat artificial diamond given to her by a man of trans in the cisworld as a gift, when he embraced his true gender.   A pleasant gift, to validate h'er truth.

On the other hand a single ring, crystal and beautiful, 5 crystal stones set in stainless steel.  Blue, then pink, then white, then pink, then blue.  Sh'e never takes it off, no matter what form sh'e takes in the world of the cis, it is who sh'e is, sh'e is trans.

The full transition androgyne quietly rises, casting a sad glance to the living bear rug, the one that caretook this place for quite some time, the poet of the forest.  Eyes alive, sad, silent.

Rustling is outside the treehouse door, there are folk moving about, the old groundhog has made their way out.   Sh'e shook h'er head, sh'e isn't sure what pronoun they are using, sh'e has been away that long.   Everything has changed.

Quietly sh'e slips out.  Newbies are coming and going, trying to find  themselves, searching for labels to find where they fit in.   They do not understand. 

There is a place in the forest filled with boxes, boxes where the nonbinary creatures voluntarily go, even the binary goes there.  They seek the boxes to belong, to be safe, to be classified like a butterfly, not realizing that gender is air and music, no box could ever contain it.

And they go into their box, and they find comfort there, and they accept the limits.

Others are walking a tightrope between trees in their mind, the one male, the one female, still trapped in the binary, a point on a line, walking back and forth.    Never realizing that for others, there is no tightrope, no line, only the music of gender, simultaneous song, the song of the forest, limitless, non binary, it cannot be contained.

Sh'e steps to the ledge of the treehouse quietly.  Sh'e has not determined yet if the forest is safe for h'er.

It was not, once.  And sh'e is very aware of h'er responsibilities, of boundaries that should not be crossed.  But that was so long ago, and h'er feelings hurt, sh'e stayed away.   

That war that should never have been.  May it never come again. 

Saddened again, the old hurts have healed, leaving only sadness for the fallen.  They did not understand, they could not, they lived in little boxes, and the fairy has learned to fly.

Sh'e wonders what became of them.  Sh'e does not want to know.

The full transition androgyne fairy spread's her gilded wings, and silently flies over the forest.  Sh'e will stay silent, most of the time, but in this place, in this creation, sh'e will share the truths of trans, as sh'e understands it.

Diamond heart warriors of trans.   May they always be well. 

[Satinjoy]

Sh'e is searching for h'er dear woodelf.  The one who brought h'er to this place from the binary world, saving h'er life and setting off destiny.l

[Sno]

The lyric repeats.

Lines familiar of a time long ago, and yet transported in an instant.

Treachery and treason
There's always an excuse for it
And when I find the reason
I still can't get used to it
And what have you got at the end of the day?
What have you got to take away?
A bottle of whiskey and a new set of lies
Blinds on the window and a pain behind the eyes
Scarred for life
No compensation
Private investigations

Lyrics by Mark Knopfler

The source of my pain runs deep,
From the Styx and beyond,
A shade of light so dark there's no escape
It's raging fire can raise
A torment and flame that sears
Closing , and yet opened
Wounds that would never heal

And the bear applies a salve
Balm and care,
smooth the void,
Ease, ease,
tease a little more
a little more.
Looking quietly at the flickering light,
Dying embers glow quietly,
slowing to shaded grey.
Zephyr breeze from nostril puff.

It is a time right now for rest,
and calm
and healing.

Slow green creaks the forest canop'y
S'he has returned.
Greening, keening all around,

Waiting, quiet, bound.

The Faerie in her tree house waits.
Quiet, still,
the transformation radiant on wing,
Waiting.
Waits
Wait

The WoodElf has been telegraphed.
The message is out.
Patience.

And in the green of the forest where wood elves play and tease faeries sprite,
In a quiet corner
Patience waits.
For that well known knock upon the gate.
And wistful to the air,
Curls a grey line.
The smoke upon the bough, we sit and wait.

[Satinjoy]

Floating overhead, sh'e flies on high, spiraling, spiraling.  Skittish and weary, sh'e is.

In h'er hands, there is a sword, drawn, ready for battle.   The jewel encrusted handle, blue pink white pink blue, for h'er.  There are other swords, other stones.  Sh'e chooses this one to represent h'er truth.

Out and drawn, but there is silence here in the deep woods. 

Circles again, then, into the sheath it goes.

The old warrior Fairy returns to h'er treehouse, and steps inside.  The fire is smouldering, and the bear in its rug is still there, eyes open and alive, staring into the fire.

Sh'e comes and sits down into the deep fur of h'er new mysterious friend.

And quietly joins the reverie of staring into the fire.   Sh'e lets it smoulder, enjoying it's glow.  Perhaps it is time to put on another log, sh'e thinks.

Hyperalert, sh'e is, and fearful, the sword at h'er side.  Sh'e does not yet know how to relax in this place.  This was once h'er home, and it was full of joy, and laughter, and love.   But the eagle and the shadow are not here, two of the three sh'e loved the deepest, gone.

Sh'e is glad for the message of the woodelf being called, but will they come?  Will they return to this place?

Painted acorns are on the floor, priceless to h'er.  If sh'e had stayed, would they also remain hidden in h'er skirts, riding the winds with h'er?

Questions without answers.  Times long gone, the old warrior Fairy stares bleakly into the fire.

What has sh'e done....?

Sh'e feels lost. 

In the mirror of truth, sh'e sees h'er reflection again.   Eyes of sadness, lines that were never there, sh'e aged 20 years in 5.  It had been very hard in the world of the cis.

And precious friends divided, many who fell, to this needless division that came, so petty, so foolish.   So terribly destructive.   A collision of wills, of genders, the binary to the nonbinary, and the fruit of it is oh so bitter.

Sh'e feels old. 

A sword is in h'er hand, sh'e doesn't even know how to set it down.

[LexieDragon]

I am the dragon of silver, glistening in the sunlight...complaining that its too hot in the forest and finding a big spring to relax in.

[ErinWDK]

The Old Walrus lies quietly in the forest.  It is too warm for them so they have turned pink -- coursing blood to the surface layers to help cool off.  They quietly contemplate a spring flower finally protruding from rocks around a withered, blasted tree.  They wonder if it is safe here as not too many forest dwellers seem to be out and about, they would even welcome more flowers.

They see the Warrior Fairy swoop overhead with a drawn sword in He'r hand.  They like the blue-pink-white-pink-blue jeweled handle.  But they fear what the drawn sword portends.  They hope for better days for all the forest dwellers.  The Pixie Sprite is out and about looking for signs of enchantment in this special place.

[Satinjoy]

Ah dear walrus, fear not.  There is no battle to fight in this place, not anymore.

And the fight is for justice, in the world of the cis, they almost killed me, they spit in my face, tried to rape me and I broke free from their drunken hands.

I have fought long and hard, but it is not against the brothers and sisters and others of the forsest, nor the binary city surrounding itvand the transfolk their I so love.

No sh'e fights against hate, and the darkness it has brung.

Quietly sword in hand sh'e spirals up in the air, wings gently fanning the dear Walrus, glad they expressed their fears.

Yes it burned, this place.  But a phoenix always rises from the ashes, and this forest still lives.

Light glitters on the blue pink white pink blue stones flashing in the brilliant sunlight.

Let this be a safe place again.

[Satinjoy]

Sh'e spirals high overhead.

Innocents are dancing in the forest, children of a sort, some yet to find the puberty given by the potent tree of hormones.

There is some fear here, and some playfullness.

A miriad of experiences, the whole world of trans is here.

Aged and long term survivors, newbies, and the missing.

Sh'e spots the diamond tightrope sh'e walked long ago.

On the one side was binary trans living, on the other, nonbinary.  And for years sh'e walked between the two, balanced, the stones cutting h'er fert.

But now h'er fert are calloused, and sh'e dances on the tightrope that is h'er truth, sh'e is still both, one, wings spread and living free

Very few understood h'er, most tried to shift the balance.  And fear took the forest, fear for h'er sanity.

Learn how to dance the tightrope, if that is your truth, or fly on either side.  But know who you are, for in the deadly war of staying alive in the cisworld, your truth will become so very important, allies will be revealed and enemies, and the joy of living your true gender will surpass your wildest dreams.

The joy, and the pain, and the freedom, your eyes smiling in the mirror, as you see you as you were born to be.

[Tessa James]

while i don't engage long in magical thinking there exists a strong sense of living with a "spell" cast by uncontrolled forces just outside the forest or bubble of this time/space.  The spell can blind us and enchant us at once?

Thank you Satinjoy for this smile "The joy, and the pain, and the freedom, your eyes smiling in the mirror, as you see you as you were born to be."  Spread those wings!

[Satinjoy]

Quiet has settled in on the forest, more than quiet.

Sh'e is walking through the ancient paths, looking for others, trying to feel less alone.

It is a very lonely path, to be nonbinary, for h'er.   True, there are other creatures of the forest, but out in the world of the cis, beyond the forest, sh'e always feels like sh'e is one of a kind.

Never fitting in, always there is a sadness, but once in a while, sh'e sees someone like h'erself, in the place sh'e is now.  It used to be sh'e saw many, out in the cisworld, but sh'e had to move, sh'e lost h'er home.

Sh'e lost it because sh'e was trans.

Walking slowly, the sword is at h'er side.  Not needed here, not at all.  But as time moves on, and the experience of walking the darker paths are there, in between the moments of light, it marks you, it makes you wary, jaded a little, it can drive love from you.

Loving kindness can give way to constant battle, the time taken to smell the flowers can fade.  It erodes, your soul does, if there is too much alone, too much sadness.   And too much hate, sh'e is so easily triggered.

It was here that the feelings could flow, that you could express how it feels, to be you, to live this life.  Other places, they cannot do this, but living in the forest, the truth can come out.

Sh'e wants to hear more from the creatures here, the bear, the walrus, the fairy, the hedgehog, the mad hatter of a time, the dragons. 

Then, sh'e is not alone.

The forest echoes.  It feels haunted now.

So few of us, the creatures of the nonbinary.   So very few.

[MaryT]

In the sun-dappled faerie cabin,
the faerie misses her friend the bear.
"Where is it?
I have not seen it for such a long time."
Then she remembers
that she turned it into a rug.
"Perhaps I was too hasty.
After all,
the roof of my faerie cabin
needs polishing
from time to time."
The faerie jiggles
her nonbinary wand
and the bearskin rug swells,
filling out into a beautiful bear.
"It was good to be a rug
where footsteps fell,
cushioned by my pelt
and my dear friend
the nonbinary fairy
danced barefoot.
Now, though,
it is time to rejoin my other friends
in the Unicorn Forest"
thinks the bear
as it crashes through the floor
of the treehouse.

[ErinWDK]

The forest is quiet, very quiet.  One has to look for signs of life.  That is why the Walrus has been contemplating a flower for so long.  Then again they are not a "high energy" forest creature and need to sort of drag themself along by their tusks.  That is not a rapid means of getting anywhere.  Can one even imagine what would happen if somehow they were magically transported to the faeries treehouse?  Oh the holes in the floor -- if the whole were not crushed!

There are downsides to being a walrus...  But the pixie sprite deep inside finally finds a home in the Unicorn Forest.  It is a solitary existence indeed.  There is nowhere in the world of the cis where I can be me.  At least the Walrus gets a good sleep after a meal, and then to dream.  Now, where were those pancakes...

[Satinjoy]

Sh'e is smiling.

Laughing really.

There's a hole in h'er treehouse floor.

So, now there's room to bring up the Walrus, before it's fixed.

Its a good thing that this is a very huge tree, the tree that supports the treehouse, rooted in thousands of years of experience and pain and joy and suffering, the roots of the truth of trans.

And in the arms of the trees, the limbs, are all those activists and wonderful people that reach out to the sky and uplift the others who are finding their ways in the forest, trying to survive.

It is a strong tree, it will never fall, it cannot be burned.

Sh'e is honored to call it h'er home.

Sh'e draws strength from its roots.

So sh'e sets the table and lights the fire.  The bear is missing, the puzzling poet, sh'e loves their words and their thoughts.  And there is another faerie in the wood, one sh'e has not met yet.  Sh'e is afraid, actually, sh'e was away so long that sh'e feels that sh'e has become an intruder in this place.  Even though sh'e was the one to birth it, from the great writings of the sages of the forest.

The statue of Nero is still in the woods, they were the ones that coined the terms, the unicorn forest, they are the real originators of the concept.  And others came and carried the message on.

Now, there are graves and empty houses, but there is still life here.

Sh'e pours out the wine of love upon the table, empty chairs are there, and spaces for the big ones that don't sit down so well. 

My treehouse is open to you, come, and let us dine together, and talk of the life of unicorns, the diamond hearts of trans.

[Satinjoy]

Ahhh the table is set, but the feast has moved to the forum....

Sh'e floats gently through the floor, down to the bottom of the neglected forest ground.

It's time to plant some seeds in this place, there are those wandering in from the city of trans, they are lost, they have questions, and if we do not answer them, then who will do it?

Sh'e watches, waiting for the other nonbinary creatures to speak again.  Sh'e is worried, for those who are of the nonbinary, the ones that walked away from the binary influences, this is their home, their sanctuary.   In that way it must remain, it is so important.

The conflicted androgyne Fairy quietly walks the parched land, seeing burnt areas around, desolation, but still the life remains here, others haunt the forest, longing for days when it all could bloom again.

The Fairy of two worlds, sh'e had dreamed of uniting them, the binary and the nonbinary, but it exploded instead.

How sad, is that what we have become?  Factions of trans, when we should be united, as the world of the cis seeks to crush us and destroy all we represent?  Skillfully playing our fears against each other, while they take away the most basic of our human rights away?

The sword is still at h'er side, half unsheathed.  Sh'e is angry, sh'e is always angry these days.

Sh'e searches quietly, silk and satin rustling in a gentle warm breeze, the sh'e Fairy of the forest, looking for souls to love.

[Sno]

Am I?
Am I.
I am?
I

The bears challenge,
Not small.
Struggles with time passing,
Cubs with struggles too
Their own challenge,
Their own battles.

Hurt, again.
Sore, again.
Afraid, again.
The lists begin.

The missing caress of gossamer feet,
Fleet flight,
Fanciful and weary.
Sword drawn tense faerie.

Simple flickers of light and warmth.
Comfort drift to allow smooth passage,
Down well trod paths,
And overgrown sod.
And yet, the night.
The terrifying night,
Sinister dark, flickering foreboding
Simple transport to our universe before the intrusion of the light.

[Satinjoy]

Sh'e spots the poet bear, they look worried, frightened, pained, mourning.

The walrus also is slow, there is a common theme.

The other faerie has also been moving in the forest, more free, a fun free spirit in the forest.

Wings spread wide again, and h'er bare feet land upon the shoulder's of the soft bear.

Let the dance begin. 

Fireflies drive back the night, and a thousand eyes watch the forest as the darkness begins to fade.

Dawn is coming, where the paths lead, no one can tell, but for now, there is peace in the forest, and healing has begun.

Sh'e dances, stretches, enjoys the luxurious fur upon her toes and h'er feet.

Its been a long, long, long time since sh'e was able to dance in this place.

Bear in pain, in fear, in darkness, the being of light upon their shoulder, sword unsheathed, impaling the night.

Incense is burning in the treehouse, candles in the windows, a fire in the hearth.

And a fire in the heart, burning, brightly, for the loved ones of trans.

Heal my darlings, heal.  Let the pain subside for the night, only dancing, and fur, and belonging, the nonbinary unicorns of the forest, all different, all united, all freed.