Thursday, 20 April 2017

Random Thoughts (November 28, 2011)


Calm before
The storm.

A measureless

Brief interruption
In a meaningless

From reality.

Method of delivery
For legal toxins
Into the body.

Another gateway
For life.

Therisa © 2011

Author's note: Another blast from my poetic morgue.

Wednesday, 19 April 2017

Gathering Of The Clan (April 19, 2017)

Don't know
When life changed
For me.

As the holidays
A chore to endure
And not enjoy.

Of the fights
Both physical
And verbal.

I lost
With my dad
Via a spanking.

In visiting
Oma and opa
For the high holiday feasts
At their small rural bungalow
In Dunneville, Ontario.

To the gills
With dad's family
Far and wide.

Only a scream away
From shattering
As children run around
Bubbling with excitement.

Seeking refuge
Wherever possible
In my constant companion
A book.

Unable to explain
Why I felt
So uncomfortable
With my extended family.

Not yet
Did I have
The proper words
To do so.

Only now
Do I know
It was anxiety
I was experiencing.

In my family
You only missed 
These gatherings.

If you were 
Physically sick
Lived out of province
Or dead.

To my dad
I was
None of the above.

A spoiled brat
Acting out.

Further hiding
My true emotions.

As I suffered
In silence
By avoiding
Any future punishment.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: I think, but not sure, I was 12 years old, when I started acting out. Can remember, I hate my dad, during this time, wanting nothing to do, with the family gatherings. Especially, the religious overtones of these days, I have never felt comfortable with, given the conservative nature, of some of my family members. 

For the record, I do not consider myself, a Christian, although I was baptized, as an infant. To be a Christian, I have to accept, that Jesus is, the Son of God, and not a mere mortal, who was killed for political reasons, by the ruling elite, in Judea, for challenging their religious and social hold, over Jewish society, back then.

Tuesday, 18 April 2017

Winkte* (April 18, 2017)

Both feet
Firmly anchored
In the gender divide
Expressing ourselves
Who we are.

To some
We're seen
As an abomination
Or worse.

To be destroyed
With extreme prejudice
No question asked.

Like the national 
Past time
Of (ice) hockey
Or lacrosse.

The very facts
Before them.

We're human

Only wanting
To live our lives
In peace
As women.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: *Winkte (also spelled wíŋtke) is the contraction of an old Lakota word, Winyanktehca, meaning "wants to be like a woman." Winkte is a social category in Lakota culture, of male-bodied people who adopt the clothing, work, and mannerisms that Lakota culture usually considered feminine. (http;//

Although my ethnic heritage is, of European descent, I find myself, identifying with Canada's First Nations, and their struggle to claim their culture and heritage, which has been brutally stripped away, over the past 500 + years. Especially, with the reemergence of "Two Spirit", within their culture and society, as a whole, as part of the healing process, in ending the genocide, waged against them, by the "Crown" and other agents, for the government and people of Canada.

As we walk, our journey of healing, together, as one people.  Brothers and sisters, learning to love ourselves, once more.

A Fool's Dream? (April 17, 2017)

Am I

I can never be
A woman.

By genetics.

How many times
A surgeon's scalpel
May be used.

Hormones taken
And suppressed.

One can't create
A silk purse
Out of a sow's ear.

And yet
I try.

This fantasy
Becomes reality.

One day.

Therisa © 2017

Friday, 14 April 2017

One Size Fits All (April 14, 2017)

You don't see me
As I struggle.

Against the stream
I must follow
Like a spawning Salmon
For my education.
Trying to fit
My square peg
Into your circular hole
Without destroying

The nightly tears
Of frustration
And anger.

Of a blank page
Before me
To be marked
With red ink.

Your snide comments
Calling me:

Needs to apply
Their self
To the task
At hand."

Working harder
Then the other students
To finish 
The assigned work.

Feeling betrayed
At the year end
Report card.

Bitter tears flowing
Upon seeing
For having
A learning disability.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: In June 1977, my grade one teacher failed me, as a result of my various learning disabilities. Along with, 6 other students, in my class. Needless to say, her contract wasn't renewed, for the following year, by the local school board. Throughout my academic career, I have been, in and out, of special educational classes, due to various reasons (learning disabilities to the gifted program).

In Ontario, under provincial law, a school (whether, at the elementary or secondary level) can reject a transferring student's request for support, although, they have documented evidence when transferring, within the same school board. Regardless, of the fact, the learning assessment, was paid for, by the taxpayers of that same board. Never mind, if they are coming, from another school board. 

Thursday, 13 April 2017

The Poison Game (April 13, 2017)

I know
Within my mind
I'm not responsible
For the abuse/bullying
I have experienced.

And yet
There's a part
That does.

Being pulled
In so many 
Different directions
I don't understand.

As various layers
of guilt
Built up
Around my soul
Is slowly
Stripped away.

Holding back
The tears
In my ducts

Can't help
But think
How things 
Could've been different.

If I was born
Instead of trans.

A question
I'll never have
An answer for.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Sigh. For the past month, or so, I have been dealing, with a renewal bout of my depression. In that, I have been isolating myself, to the point of becoming agoraphobic, again. In real life, and on the Internet, Struggling, in finding ways, to express this darkening of my soul, in a positive way, that would prevent me, from falling into the trap of self-pitying myself. Having done enough of that, over the years.

Wednesday, 12 April 2017

Refuge (April 12, 2017)

Release from reality
Escaping abuse/bullying
Finding new heroes
Unlocking the past
Growing as a person
Emitting light from darkness.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: It started with The Hardy Boys, and grew from there, my love affair with books and the printed word. Many, a night, were lost to a book, as I had to finish it, before, being able to turn off the lights and let sleep claim me. 

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