Monday, 18 September 2017

The Reversal of Dorian Grey (September 18, 2017)

We're told
That gray hair is
A symbol of wisdom.

And yet
Why do we make
These same mistakes
Over and over
Again?

Like we're trapped
In an endless loop
That only ends
When the power
Is disrupted.

Is it vainglory
Or a sign
Of our hubris
That we try to hide
Our aging shell?

Viewing it
As a sign of weakness
To be despised
And hated
For our impending
Mortality.

Coating our locks
In a colourful sea 
Of natural
And artificial dyes
Like it never happened.

In a flawed attempt
To deceive ourselves
That the biological clock
Will stop for us.

Regardless
Of one's wealth
Social status
Or income level.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Over the past 6 weeks, I have notice more and more gray strands in my hair, whenever I look into the mirror. I realize having spent almost 5 decades on this plane of existence, this would eventually happen to me, but thought it might be delayed for another year or two. Why I may not like this, I won't be lining up at the local salon or drugstore, to purchase this false sense of youth, in dying my hair to an unnatural shade. Having already tried this, earlier in my life. While I liked the look, it didn't last long, as my hair rejected the dye. So no blue hair rinse for me. 

Saturday, 9 September 2017

Freeing The Gorilla (September 9, 2017)

Once more
We stand
On the brink of madness
As world leaders
Rattle nuclear sabres.

In heroic poses
Like a 19th century statue
Covered in bird droppings
And other waste.

As egos direct
The tilting windmills
Towards North Korea
And Washington, D.C.
With their eternal dance.

Where political dogma
Reigns supreme
Over logic.

Rattling the metal bars
Of the zoo cage
Unrelentingly
By the trapped beast
Inside.

Knowing
To release it
Is utter stupidity
Of the highest order.

And yet
We have done so
In our anger.

May the heavens
Forgive our follies
For doing so.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: I fear the rhetoric of President Donald Trump will inflame the worsening North Korea crisis, to the point, one side or the other will renew the fighting. Thus breaking 64 year truce, between the warring parties. 

Wednesday, 6 September 2017

After The Tears (September 2, 2017)

They fall
From the heights
Of Mt Olympus
Down our face.

Overburdened
With the toxic slurry
Of our lives.

Those times
We've been told
By others.

We're bleeping useless
Pieces of waste.

Never stopping
To realize
These words were
Never meant for us.

Rather
The outward expression
Of those speaking
Their own inner hate.

Scared and envious
Of us
In our boldness
To be true.

By being
The ultimate person
We can.

In saying
I love myself
Despite the hate
Tossed at us.

So wipe away
That bio-hazardous flood.

And remember
Their words can
Only have power
When we give it
To them.

A hard thing
To remember
As our soul crumbles
Under this weight
But necessary.

For Rome 
Wasn't built
In a single day.

Neither 
Shall our healing be
Until that day arrives
Please be gentle
And compassionate
To ourselves.

For we shall have
Our good and bad day
On this journey
To wholeness.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Reaching out to someone, who's having negative self-doubts on her healing journey.

Post Labour Day Thoughts (September 6, 2017)

The parade is over
Marchers have gone home
Leaving behind their garbage
Uncollected.

Protesting against
The favourite cause
Of the week.

A dwindling voice
From another era
And time
Of the union movement
Searching for direction
And relevancy.

Where true equality
And gender rights
Are yesterday's news
Meant to be forgotten
As last year('s) failures.

Replaced by
The latest brightest
Sexy causes and slogans
To be chanted.

As another generation
Is lost and forgotten
By society.

Believing
They're solved
And logged
Into some dusty
And forgotten
History book.

As a single mother
Struggles to feed
Her family
Living below
The poverty line.

That $15/hr wage
Won't cover
The basics
Of her expenses.

As social assistance
Punish her
With their draconian
Claw backs.

As she sacrifices
Her present
For her children's
Future.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Under Ontario law, a person on social assistance (general welfare or disability) can earn $150/month, before losing 50% of the additional gross income that's reported to their caseworker, from their assistance cheque, until it's all claw back. Regardless, if one is receiving welfare or disability, these people are living well below Canada's poverty line, as food banks have become part of the system for getting the bare minimum of their food needs, to avoid starving for the rest of the month.

Thursday, 31 August 2017

Thursday morning thoughts (August 31, 2017)

Gray skies
Fills the morning view.

As if
Someone had forgotten
To tell Mother Nature
It's still summertime.

And not
Autumn.

Although
Next Tuesday
The kids go back
To school.

Are the falling tears
The raindrops
Of nature?

She sheds
Intermixed
With hope and lost
For the coming years.

Drowning us
In a seemingly endless deluge
A wall of water
That falls
Day after day.

Drenched
Like a colony
Of drowned rats
We crawl forward
Towards the tunnel
Of muted light.

Moving blindly
Into the muddle
We call
The future.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: My second new poem that I have written since July 1st.

Saturday, 26 August 2017

A Dream Postponed (May 10, 2017)

To some people
I am
A freak.

Who dreams
Of giving birth
To my own children.

But
Can't.

Genetics stopped
That biological clock
At conception.

Without great risk
To myself
Or my developing child
Outside of the womb.

How do I explain
To you
This feeling
Of incompleteness
I have.

In the early days
Of SRS
Of the late 1920's
And early 1930's
Doctors would've transplanted
Female reproductive system
From cadaver donours.

Enabling
My chance
Of a normal pregnancy.

Although
At great cost
Of rejection
For the transplanted organs.

Unlike today
Tissue typing
Wasn't done.

And anti-rejection drugs
Weren't developed
Yet.

As many transwomen died
From the shock
Of organ rejection.

And still
This siren call
Beckons me
Forward.

Of one day
Being able to hold
This bundle of joy
With stem cell research.

Regardless
Whether
We are cis
Or transwomen.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Given my age and medical condition, this remains a dream for me.  

Wednesday, 16 August 2017

A Small Act Of Defiance (August 16, 2017)

I have travelled
The darkest path
Of one's soul.

Where hope is
A distance shore
Out of reach
To the outstretch hand.

Waking up
And getting dress
Are major achievements
On a daily basis.

Acts
Most people take
For granted.

But
Not for me.

As I sit
Before a library computer
Typing this out.

Struggling against
My fight/flight instinct
To runaway
From here.

To the safety
Of my apartment
With Venus Squeak
And Star.

By surrendering
To that act
Am giving
My anxiety and depression
Another victory
Over my soul.

Forever 
Keeping me
A hostage
To the mental illnesses
I live with
On a daily basis.

So I ask you
Not to make this
A mountain
Out of a mole hole.

Rather
Sit by me
And say
"Good job Therisa".

Nothing more.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Since last November (2016), I have been struggling with my chronic depression, which has refused to leave me, in March. Turning my fall/winter bout of depression, into a 9 month ordeal for me. Over the past weekend, I have started another prose project, which for me, is a huge step forward. Not sure where it will take me, but anywhere is better that staring at a blank screen, like a zombie.

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