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Prepping For Soul Soup (January 13, 2016)

Photo from http://www.hubpages.com Sitting down With a paring knife And a cooking onion In my hands. Taking my time To ensur...

Wednesday, 7 December 2016

Upon The Front Lines (December 7, 2016)

My soul
Is the battleground
Upon which
A war is 
Being waged.

Fought
Among multiple fronts
Simultaneously
For control.

Every exploding shell
Renders my soulscape
Into a thousand 
Jagged piercing shards.

Each front
A different element
Of my universe
Bursting forth
Into thick acrid smoke.

Threatening
To choke
My existence
Out.

Like
A battle weary soldier
My soul seeks
A permanent ceasefire
Ending all hostilities.

Knowing
An unilateral surrender
Is tantamount to
A death sentence
For me.

One
I'm not prepare
To face
Just yet.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: A metaphor for how I am feeling right now.

Wednesday, 30 November 2016

Naivety's Price (November 26, 2016)

Society talks
About love. 

As if
It was a hyperbole
Of our souls.

In telling children
We will always 
Love them.

No matter 
What.

And yet
For many children
They have nothing left.

But 
This flimsy claim
To hang onto. 

As they're tortured
And abused
At the hands
Of their parents.

Only guilty 
Of being born
Different.

Whether
The wrong gender
Or sexuality.

All the while
Being told
Their punishment is
A sign of love.

Blaming themselves
For not being 
Good enough.

Or should have
Done things
Only differently
The first time.

When
The real fault lies
With the adults.

Leaving the child
To pay
The most horrible price
Their life.

Therisa © 2016

Monday, 21 November 2016

Untitled (June 24, 2016)

Silence
Each passing second
My soul dies
A small death.

Words are replaced
By a flooded soulscape
Meters deep
In tears.

Internalized anger
Builds up
Consuming all.

Until
A black hole
Only remains
Behind.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Wrote this micro poem, on the TTC Rte #23 bus, heading towards the Main St subway station, for my Friday afternoon art program.

Saturday, 19 November 2016

On The Edge Of Tears (November 19, 2016)

We look
At the future
With rose coloured
Glasses.

Dreaming
Of an emerging world
Filled with love
And compassion.

Knowing
Our past is
One filled
With extreme prejudice
And violence.

For too many
Of our brothers
And sisters
Have paid
In their lives.

Whether
At the hands 
Of family members
Or complete strangers.

Something
I know
All too well.

Having experienced
Traumatic events
From both.

Almost 
Costing me
My life.

Sitting here
Fighting back
The tears.

Threatening
To unleash
An emotional tsunami
Upon my soul. 

Knowing
Tomorrow is
November 20th
Day of Trans-Remembrance.

Which
My community
Remembers those
Were murdered.

Or driven
To their deaths.

Praying
It's the last time
We must gather
And read off 
New names.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Around the world, the Trans-community will be observing Day of Trans-Remembrance, on November 20th, for our brothers and sisters, who died, at the hands of others. In Toronto, The 519 will marking this event, from 4-8 pm, at 519 Church St., Toronto, Ontario.

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Falling Downwards (November 1, 2016)

My eyes are 
Becoming bleary
As the tears
Roll down.

Feelings 
Of guilt and shame
Wrack my soul.

As memories
Stream forth
Of another time
And place.

Where 
I found myself
Praying for death.

Despising myself
For being 
A freak.

Thoughts of death
Flood my mind
As everything
Become a weapon
To me.

Just wanting
The pain
To end.

By any means
Possible.

Even now
Should Death 
Embrace my body
I won't fight Her.

Rather
Just want my pain
To be over.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Before the age of 12 years old, I have attempted suicide, several times, but failed, for various reasons. I haven't felt this down, hopeless and depressed, since the 2010/11 holiday season, when I made my last attempt. November, next to July (my second hardest), is the hardest month, emotionally, for me. Right now, I wish, I had my dad, to cry in his broad shoulders, and have him. give me, the emotional support, unconditionally. Something, my mom has never been able to do,

Friday, 11 November 2016

In A Trump World (November 11, 2016)

Judgment Day
Has come
And gone
For the United States.

Slowly
Reality is
Sinking in
For the world.

As reaction
To Trump's election
Spreads forth
At light speed.

Leaving 
Many people
Nervous.

Echoes
Of election promises
Reverberate down
Empty corridors.

Angry
Hate-filled words
Leaves it mark
On a scared people.

Seeing enemies
In every corner
Of the world.

As they walk
Down this path
Their hearts filled
With despair 
And rage.

Where fiction
Becomes reality.

Without 
A sober second thought
Or logic
To the arguments.

Marking life
For the next 4 years
On this planet.

Therisa © 2016

Tuesday, 1 November 2016

Breaking Away (November 1, 2016)

If April is
The month of showers
And May
Flowers.

Then
November is
The month of tears.

I say this
As storm clouds 
Gather.

A time of death
And rebirth.

Of family lost
And a soul
That's reclaimed
From the dead.

As the healing process
Works its way
Through me.

Marking
The transition period
From light to dark
And back
Again.

Refusing
To let the pain
Claim me
As another victim
Of hate.

As it has
For too many year
In my life.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Today is, an anniversary date for me, which 3 years ago, I broke off my last contact with my abusive mom. Thus, cutting off, all contact with my biological family. At the time, I had asked her, if it was possible for her, to get my birthday and Christmas gift, at the same time, as the country roads to her home, can become unsafe, from November until April, due to snow. For I had asked her, for help on buying a new winter jacket, for myself. Needless to say, she found countless excuses, why she couldn't help me, when I rarely ask for anything, from me. After hearing her last excuse, I told her, to sod off and want nothing more, to do with her, in my life. 

Am so tired, of having to fight anxiety attacks, playing by her restrictive rules, whenever I want/or need to contact her, of seeing her eyes filled with fear, which she denies. Her refusal to entry my apartment, as if, I have bedbugs, inside. Generally, being treated, as a childish family member, one can barely tolerate, at the best of times. Who needs, all aspects of their live, to be controlled, by an "adult". As if, I was mentally unable to look, after myself.