Friday 26 April 2019

Fuzzy Friday Thoughts (April 25, 2019)

It’s a dark drury
Friday morning
In Toronto.

Banks of gray clouds
Fill the sky
With supersaturated
Icy cold rain droplets
Ready to fall.

Find myself
Wanting to hide
In my warm dry bed
Sleeping away
This miserable day.

Little ones
Snuggling close
Beside me.

Only leaving
The comfortable bed
For bodily needs
Like food and water.

Leaving the world
In its mad rush to Hell

One day
Spent away
From the Rat Race
Won’t hurt anyone.

Where absurd fantasies
Like Donald Trump
Caring for the welfare of
Latin American immigrants
On the U.S./Mexico border.

Or actually cooperating
With Congress
In finally settling
The Mueller’s investigation
Into the 2016 Presidential election.

Are filling my dreams
Of a kinder gentler
U.S. President
We all want.

Am I delusional
For wanting this?

Reality is
So much more brutal
To one’s senses.

Wake me up
When the game starts.

As the latest saviour
Comes to town
In Vladimir Guerrero Jr
For my beloved
Toronto Blue Jays.

Am told
He takes walks
As well.

Therisa © 2019

Thursday 25 April 2019

The "G" Question (April 25, 2019)

Never understood
Your driving need
For me
To embrace your “God”.

Our worldviews
Are so vastly different
Often clashing
Against each other.

Best described
As a generation divide
Between us.

As a child
I’ve known this.

Trying to express
My needs
And failing.

How I despite
The male clothes
You laid out
For the church service.

Passively fighting you
Against attending.

How progressive
Or accepting
They are.

At what point
Do you realize
I’m not you
On this question?

I have
Never felt comfortable
In Christian churches.

Like I’m an outsider
Looking in.

Do you realize
How you anger me
With your constant asking
To attend church.

I visit you.

Each repetitive request
Widens the gap
Between us.

And yet
You continue
With your requests.

Like you’re dealing
With a 4 year old child
Needing exposure
To a wider world.

And not
A grown adult
I’ve become.

Who rejects
The male dominated society
We live in.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: I started writing this poem, around 4 am EDT, after Star woke me, wanting
to playing with me.There are times, I want to tell her, “go play with Squeak”, but he’s
sound asleep. So, here I am, writing this poem about the religious difference, between my
mom and I.

The churches that my mom forced me, to attend, as a child, belonged to the United
Church of Canada. One of the progressive and accepting of the LGBTQ+ community.
Having fought for and passed Transgender rights legislation, federally and provincially
(Ontario). Just never felt comfortable, within a Christian Church. Especially, the male
dominated language used, for the symbols of power and spirituality.

Wednesday 24 April 2019

Through The Heart Of Darkness (April 24, 2019)

Warning: The following poem contains mentioning of suicidal thoughts/attempt, depression and death. Please stop, if this triggers you.

There are times
I lay in bed
Staring at
My soul’s darkest places.

Pill bottles
All lined up
Ready to open
For that blackest moment.

As wave
After wave of despair
Pulls me
Ever deeper
Into the abyss
Of no return.

Like a forgotten lover
Asking for
One last dance
Rekindling a lost love
For the final time.

As I refuse
Your need/want.

Nine years
Since our last embrace
Around the yuletide log ablaze
Upon the computer screen.

Having since dealt
With 2 prolong bouts
Of agoraphobia.

Which held me
A virtual prisoner
Within my apartment walls
For several months
At a time.

My most recent
Transphobic scare
Won’t deter me
From continuing
My healing journey.

Surrendering means
You win
With your brutist nature
And hate.

Like I did
Almost 42 years ago
In the rural village
Of Erin, Ontario.

Hiding away
Within myself
Until November 15, 2005.

When I emerged
As my true self
Standing over
My dad’s grave.

On the anniversary date
Of his physical release
From mortal pain and suffering
Seven years previously.

So Death
You’ve no hold
Over me.

Having watched
My Oma (cancer)
And dad (heart attack-brain dead)
Fight you
With dignity.

It is life
I struggle with.
Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: I started writing this poem, on Easter Sunday, the first dry day of the Easter long weekend, in Toronto. Needing a way, to vent the darkness that was building up, within me. Hopefully, my last suicide attempt, occurred during the holiday season of 2010-11, when I did have several containers filled with prescription drugs, to OD on. For some reason, I couldn’t do it.

Although, should the need arise, I would choose to end my life, with the dignity of assisted death.

Why Now? (April 24, 2019)

Last night
First time
In several years
I felt scare.

To be out
And about
In my neighbourhood.

A drunk larger man
Challenged my right
To be myself
In a very public place.

For a full minute
After I passed him
On the sidewalk
Rude and obscene comments
Followed me.

Walking towards
A local supermarket
For a quick trip.

I kept quiet
Not wanting
To further escalate
Into physical violence.

Pace of my stride
Never changing
A single step.

As his hand flexed
Around the beer can
He held.

Graphically symbolizing
His physical intention
Should his hands
Get around my neck.

Just writing this
Can feel my anxiety levels
Start to skyrocket
Into full panic mode.

Darm him!

I won’t allow
This knuckledragger
To control my clothes
Or how I present myself.

I have worked too hard
For some drunken ignoramus
To chase me
Into the closet

I sit here
Writing about this.

I can’t surrender
To his implied violence
Or my past memories
Of similar situations.

Even if
I’m wiping away tears
That flow
From my eyes.

I am
A survivor.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: I didn’t see this person, again, on my return trip home. Still, I was shaken by this experience. Am writing this, as part of my Cognitive Behaviour Therapy (CBT), in lessen the impact that this person has over me. I did nothing wrong, beyond having bad luck of meeting this jerk.

Saturday 20 April 2019

Becoming Water (April 20, 2019)

The transition
From a solid
To a fluid.

Healing chemistry
Of a holistic nature.

Regaining flexibility
So long lost
In pain and suffering
Of another lifetime.

Where rigidity is
An armoured shell
Protecting me
From your blows.

A liability
That hinders
My healing process.

As I seek
To move forward
Reclaiming the past
For myself.

Like a gentle stream
That becomes
A fast raging river
Carving its pathway
Through the valley floor.

True inner strength
So often
Hidden away
From plain sight.

Flow grows
Increasingly muddier
With my past debris
Stripping away.

A process
That can takes years
If not longer
Before completion.

At all.
First step
Is remembering
Being gentle
To oneself.

Isn’t a sign
Of inner weakness.

An awareness
Of the harmony
That nourishes life.

Enabling me
To move
At my own pace
As I embrace
My new self.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: The title and inspiration for this poem, comes from a children book, explaining, how melting glaciers become water, at my local library.

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