Wednesday 13 September 2023

The Storm (September 13, 2023)


Gently the mist

Caresses my face

Wiping tears away

As I look up.


The skies will blacken 

Before clearing up

Like my soul. 

On the horizon 

Gathering storm clouds 

Block out the light. 


Ever deeper

Into myself.

As the wind howls

Transforming mist

To a soul destroying rain.

Carving channels

Visible to the naked eye

Across my soulscape.


In real time

The land disappear

Underneath me.


I struggle to tell 

Up from down 

In this surry.


Becomes meaningless

Beyond the next breath.

Until nothing

Only silence

As I laid awake

In my bed.


Had just endured

A night terror.

Author's note: About the 4th day of this, I realized that I had intertwine least 2 different poems. So last night, I deleted all, but the first 3 stanzas. The things that we do for art (like no sleep).

Posted to


Saturday 1 July 2023

Merci/Thank You

 On this day, 131 years ago, Canada was formed. Sadly, this birthday has been marred by 440+ forestfires across the vast expanse of this nation. Multiple times, the skies of eastern North America have sootty smokes from the fires burning in NE Ontario and Quebec.

Overwhelming, the local (often volunteer firefighters) and provincial firefighters, as various provincial governments have been forced to ask for military assistance, in fighting the and evacuating the  remote threatened communities.

Even still, over 220+ fires burn out of control. I fear that this number would be much higher and far deadlier, without the global support that Canada has received. From our Commonwealth sisters (South Africa, New Zealand and Australia),  European Union (France, Portugal and Spain), the United States (federal and state level) and the Americas (Brazil, Costa Rica, Chile and Mexico).

Please forgive me, if I have forgotten any country's assistance. 

For this, I give everyone helping my country, a heartfelt thank you/merci. Knowing, in the past that Canada has shared its resources, globally, in fighting other country's forest/bush fires.

Friday 10 March 2023

A Whispering Of Hope (March 8, 2023)

All good stories

Begin with

Once upon a time....

Where our dreams Are

Like faerie tales

Given breath

To life.

Acts of revelation

Of hope and protest

Made flesh.

In a world

Filled with hate

And ignorance.

Where hope is

A fragile butterfly

Fluttering against

Furious winds.

And yet

We fight.


Real change

Is generations


Author's note: Written for International Woman's Day 2023.

Monday 2 March 2020

February Reflections (February 27, 2020)

Wish we didn't need
A month for Black History
Or the LGBTQ+ community.

Throughout the year
Sober vigil days
Against the horrors
Committed against humanity:

January 27th
Holocaust Remembrance Day.

November 20th
Day of Transgender Remembrance.

Those people killed/tortured
For being different.

Except we've forgotten
Human rights struggle
Never ends.

Arbitrary based reasons
Defining one's value
By race religion sexual
Or gender orientation.

In demonizing people 
Justifying barbaric inhumane
Acts of hate
Through crimes of power.

I say this
Having personally experienced
How hate and intolerance
Scars one's soul.

To the point
One’s fight for life
Becomes a race
To the death.

Using self-harming
And self-medicating
As a means
To numb the pain.

Your soul dies
With each day lived
Until suicide appears
The only solution.

By direct means
Like an O/D.

Or having someone else
Pulling the trigger
On your life.

I have endured
For the past 45 years
Of my life.

As my tears fall
Proof of my witnessing
Those who have suffered.

Next year
The pain will end.

Therisa © 2020  

Saturday 29 February 2020

Not Another Read-through (Febraury 20, 2020)

It’s the month of fevers
People are looking for dreams
To hitch their wagons to.

In breaking
With the past
That burns arounds them
Filling their souls
With toxic exhaust.

To do otherwise
Is suicidal
Spiritually and physically.

Can’t stop the tears
Which flow down
At the chances
We’ve squandered.

Have seen the future
That awaits us
Horror filled nightmares
No one escapes.

Why adults are
Silencing children
With their voice of truth
For the choices needed?

Hiding behind
Petro-dollars bought
And paid for
Politicians and legal system.

As we watch
The nightly news
Countries burn away
Before our eyes.

Can’t stop
It’s our extinction
We’re driviing to.

Like frogs
In a pot
Of boiling water.

Therisa © 2020

Author’s note: A poetic tempo experiment. And yes, I had the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Can’t Stop, as an earwig, while writing this.

Tuesday 18 February 2020

The Crater (November 3, 2015)

I offend you
In my attempt
Uniting body and soul
As one.

An inner truth
Denied to those
Who are born
In the wrong body.

Travelling through
Various minefields
And battlegrounds
You’ve strewed
Around us.

In your fears
And ignorance
Of what
You don’t understand.

Leaving behind
Too many people
In pain.

To crawl out
This toxic landscape
Into the warmth
Of the light.

Without leaving behind
Another stat
To be mourned
On November 20th
Day of Transgender Remembrance.

Therisa © 2015 and 2020   

Author’s note: I had forgotten that I had written this, almost 4 1/2 years ago. Looking back, I was so naive, in my thinking that things couldn’t get worse, for the transcommunity, but it has. Just hope that Trump isn’t elected for another 4 year term, as President of the United States.

Tuesday 4 February 2020

No Turning Back (February 1, 2020)

Go ahead
Walk away
From me.

In my time
Of need.

My biggest journey
Without you.

Freeing myself
From the hate
You call love.

Wiping away
Tears of shame
I've held close.

Displaying the bruises
You left behind
On me.

Won't come back
Blaming myself
For your violence.

Oh no
Those days
Are long gone.

For I'm a survivor
Who has escaped
Hell's Inferno.

As your hooks
Bounce off
My heart.

Discarded rubble
Grounded into dust
Under my heels.

Walking away
Living my life
In peace.

Therisa © 2020  

Author’s note: Alas, the editing was, the easiest part of writing this very personal
poem, as I’m a survivor of long term abuse, from several family members. Who, I have cut off all contact with my last abuser, November 2015. The mental and emotional pain wasn't justified, in spending time with them.

Written for Earthweal’s weekly prompt: Renewal.

Just Like A Prayer (January 30, 2020)

Inner journey
Of self-enlightenment.

And wisdom restored.

True healing
One's limitations.

Building foundations
Holistically strong
Weathering life's storms.

The darkness
That once owned you.

What others think
As the Holy Truth.

Through lens
Warping reality
To their beliefs.

As you shine
With love and honour
For all - to see.

Therisa © 2020  

Author’s note: Took 45 minutes to write and 3 days to edit, properly. Sheesh.

Written for Earthweal’s weekly prompt: Renewal.

Tuesday 21 January 2020

Keeping The Dream Alive (January 21, 2020)

My eyes turn southwards
To the United States
As the tears flow
Upon learning
The latest news
Of a sister's death.

Forcing my anger down
Knowing another hate crime
Won't be solved
By the local police.

As I wonder
Why African-Americans
Aren't crying out
At the injustice done
To their Trans sisters. 

Given Black Lives Matter
Vocal protests
Against "white society" treatment
Of the "black minority."

Was the 1968 death
Of Rev Martin Luther King Jr
In Memphis, Tennessee
The death knell
For the African-American
Civil Rights Movement?

Turning inwards
In mourning
Over the rising
Vietnam War death toll
And other societal injustices.

Turning aside
Rev King's message
Of love and hope
Into apathy and despair.

The LGBTQ+ community
Hasn't done any better
Supporting trans African-Americans
Or acknowledging this crisis.

Transcommunity is thrown 
Under the bus
Greasing the wheels of progress 
Advancing Gay/Lesbian rights.

Sparking the formation
And first observation
Day of Transgender Remembrance 
In November 20, 1999.

Crossing racial lines
In Boston, Massachusetts
And San Francisco, California
Honouring Rita Hester's life.

Bearing fruit
To Rev King's 1963 speech
That his "dream" is possible
And still alive. 

Therisa © 2020   

Author’s note: I started writing this poem, in anger, given the growing problem for my African-American transsisters. As the poem progressed, I found myself, in a place where dreams are, the fragile thing that makes hope, come alive.

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