Poeaxtry's Prism

Spell. Stone. & Sparks that Ignite Change

Tag: West Virginia

  • Beaches or Mountains: Why I Love Them Both

    Beaches or Mountains: Why I Love Them Both

    Black and White photo I took in 2016 of the Santa Monica Pier!

    Well, I’m finally feeling like answering the a daily Prompt again. Today’s prompt is… Beaches or mountains, and tell us why. And you know me, I ain’t picking. I love them both, but for very different reasons, and at different times.

    I’m a mountain man. I like to hike. I like to find destinations that don’t have destinations. If nobody was around to stop me, I’d probably hike farther than I do, just to see a lot less than I do. Ohio is sacred there’s something sacred in the quiet, in the moments between one peak and the next. Being out in nature, away from people, away from screens, schedules, and most important to me no one’s bothering me about being trans. I just exist. Seeing and feeling things sometimes that’s everything. Sometimes I touch a tree, just to touch it, and whisper “thank you,” like it’s listening.

    I’m also not always trying to disappear into the woods. Sometimes I want to feel the sand between my toes, sip a mojito by the ocean, let the sun hang on my skin. And yet… even then, there’s that itch to pick up my tent, walk farther than anyone else, and not see a soul for a day or two. I’m the one who goes out over their head in the ocean when swimming, just because I can. The water is alive, and I want to be alive in it too.

    I’ve been chasing both my whole life. When I lived in Vegas, every other weekend we’d drive through the mountains just to get to LA. The mountains, the hills, the twists and turns they made the journey alive. Nature isn’t one thing to me. Clearly the ocean is nature. The woods are nature. The mountains are nature. Unless it’s Florida. I ain’t never been, and I don’t plan on it either.

    So which do I love more? I don’t. I love them both, for different reasons, at different times. The mountains feed my soul with quiet and effort. The beaches feed my soul with freedom and motion. Sometimes it’s the smell of pine. Sometimes it’s the taste of salt water on my lips or smelling it hanging in the air. Sometimes it’s just sitting still, sometimes I know it’s walking farther than I’ve ever walked before. Both remind me why I need nature at all, and both remind me why I’ll keep chasing it, wherever it is.

    Oh look it’s Sky, The Baby, and Luna!
  • Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    Coming Home from Asheville: Adventures at New River Gorge, Hawk’s Nest, and Waterfalls in the Rain

    I left Asheville later than I planned. Originally I wanted to be on the road by 6 AM but, sleep had other plans for me. I didn’t hit the road until 9. Honestly, I didn’t really want to leave. I was already missing Kelsey and Luna like crazy. If it weren’t for them, the drive home wouldn’t be calling.

    Hawk Nest State Park Signage at the overlook
    The New River Gorge Bridge and the Newest WV National Park

    The trip back was full of beautiful views. They motivated me to push my ass home. These views ended up being little adventures in themselves. First on the list was New River Gorge, where the air smelled like fresh pine. I noticed I could smell the rain coming for the first time in years. The Appalachian hardwoods were thick with oak and hickory trees as far as I was able to see. Man, the views over the gorge were breathtaking! The river winding through deep cliffs. I grabbed some stickers to remember the place. Though, the real prize was the silence, and also the mossy rocks laying beneath the towering trees. I visited this place often as a kid. I expected to find it less breathtaking. It was actually more stunning than I recall.

    Axton in the rain at Lover's Leap overlook in a blue t-shirt
    Lovers leap overlook

    Hawk’s Nest was next, and man, the mushroom show there was something else. Orange mushrooms popped like little bursts of flame against the forest floor. I spotted turkey tails layered in their colorful rings, and the chicken of the woods clung to fallen logs. The trees shifted here to include more maples and sycamores, their leaves a full display of green. I wandered some overlooks, feeling the wind and watching clouds dance over the valleys. Lover’s leap is definitely a must-see! I wonder if there’s significance in the name? I got caught in a sudden downpour. It drenched me to the bone as soon as I made it to the leap’s overlook. I love the rain, and I find it refreshing, especially spiritually. The wet rocks and leaves glistened under the gray sky. The sound of water everywhere made it feel like the forest was alive. It was whispering sweet nothings to me.

    Cathedral Falls Gauley Bridge WV mid summer
    Cathedral falls

    Cathedral Falls was the third stop. It’s the kind of hidden gem you hope for. The water was cascading down carved stone surrounded by ferns and moss thick enough to hide a whole world beneath. The cool mist from the falls was a perfect refresher. It was by far the most crowded place I stopped by size. There may have been fewer people in number. However, 15-20 people in that area made me more uncomfortable than usual.

    The fall known only as little roadside falls less than a mile from Cathedral Falls
    Little roadside wv falls

    The “little roadside fall” right down from Cathedral falls was the perfect punctuation mark on my journey home. The little cascade served as a reminder that nature always has a story to tell. Even if you’re the only one driving past to notice it. Which is what kept me at my last stop for so long. I was the only one there, and it felt meant for me.I’m back now, tired but full, carrying all these moments with me. The plants, the fungi, the waterfalls, the memories all make this place more than just a spot on the map. They’re the pulse of the mountains, the wild heart of Appalachia. They remind me of home, and that I am pure Wild and Wonderful to the bone.

  • What Freedom Means to a Trans Man: Raw, Radical, and Unfinished

    What Freedom Means to a Trans Man: Raw, Radical, and Unfinished

    What does freedom mean to you?

    Freedom isn’t a buzzword or a flag on a bumper sticker. It’s not just fireworks and barbecues. It’s not the illusion of choice sold to us by systems never built for all of us. For me, freedom is visceral something I had to fight for inch by inch, name by name, scar by scar.

    As a transgender man, freedom started with survival. It was the right to exist without apology. To wake up in a body I could live in, not just endure. It’s having the power to say, “This is who I am.” It is reflected on my ID, my prescriptions, and the way I’m addressed by the world. I legally changed my name. I transitioned with hormones and surgery. Doing this helped me achieve the ability to define myself instead of being defined by others. That’s a freedom some people never get to taste, and one I don’t take lightly.

    I come from West Virginia. It’s a place where the word freedom echoes loudest around gun safes. It resonates in hunting camps and alongside American flags. My grandfather was a cop. My family served in the military. Guns weren’t politics, they were just part of life. And I still believe in the right to own firearms. I believe in the right to protect yourself. This right is important, especially when the systems meant to protect you decide you’re not worth protecting. I believe in free speech, even when it’s messy. I believe that the Constitution wasn’t perfect. However, the ideals in it about liberty and justice for all are still worth chasing.

    Freedom means being able to walk down the street without being seen as a threat or a target. It means my medical decisions are mine, not the government’s. It means I get to live out loud and still feel safe. It means art without censorship. Relationships without judgment. Life without someone else holding the reins.

    And it means more than just me. True freedom means no one is left behind. It means immigrants, disabled people, queer folks, people of color, and the poor have the same rights. We all deserve the same chances and the same humanity. If your freedom depends on mine being taken away, then it was never freedom to start with.

    Freedom, to me, is raw, radical, and unfinished. I’ll keep writing, speaking, and living until it becomes real for everyone.

    Click me Daddy
    Click me Papi
    You’re being weird again
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