When I think of the name Jordan,

I think of that girl.

 

She was a daughter,

And a sister.

She was a granddaughter,

And a great-granddaughter.

She was a niece,

And a cousin.

 

She loved horses,

And birds.

She loved gymnastics,

And football.

She loved writing,

And reading.

 

She hated bullies,

And enemies.

She hated rules,

And consequences.

She hated pink,

And school.

 

She was quiet,

And contained.

She was friendly,

But friendless.

She was brave,

And shy.

 

She represented trauma.

She represented hate.

She represented hardships.

She represented insecurity.

 

When I think of the name Elliott,

I think of that boy.

 

He was a son,

And a brother.

He was a grandson,

And a great-grandson.

He was a nephew,

And a cousin.

 

He loved wolves,

And birds.

He loved basketball,

And football.

He loved writing,

And reading.

 

He hated bullies,

And enemies.

He hated rules,

And consequences.

He hated pink,

And school.

 

He was loud,

And expressive.

He was friendly,

With friends.

He was brave,

And shy.

 

He represented difference.

He represented change.

He represented hope.

He represented confidence.

 

She is Jordan.

He is Elliott.

They are both me.