Fatherside

When I was born, they said I looked like you,
and my features remained reflective
of the Ukrainian stoicity,
eyes of a subtle shade of blue
like a rough sea upon the storm.
Even then it was understood
a boy would have been preferred
rather than the cooing pink thing -
the scissors to the cord
of your legacy.
Identity in limbo, I transformed
(or tried with all my girlish might)
to be as rugged as any son.
All that was gained were scrapes
and bruises that remain.
So, a score and 10 breaths later,
we're both still searching
for what was never meant to be,
never fully able to embrace
what is apparent in our blue eyes.