Surviving The Age Of Trump (July 9, 2019)

Know

People will disagree 

What I'm writing. 

Never comfortable 

With strong courageous 

Or inspiration label. 

Reluctantly

Accept survivor.

Often struggle

Understanding

What life means.

Placing others 

Ahead of myself

Guilty - saying "no".

As if

Personal ethics 

Morally wrong.

And yet 

Moral toughness

Necessity requires. 

To survive intact

Balancing contradictory needs

Without losing my soul.

Especially 

During this age

Of demagoguery.

People like myself

Society views

As weak.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Those who read my poetry, know that I’m very emotional. Especially, over the past 6 weeks, have found me, more often than not, balling my eyes out, over the despicable conditions of the US detention centers, around its southern border. I know the Trump administration and its supporters, will disagree with the correct usage of concentration comps, which thousands of Latin American are being held, in barbaric conditions, not seen, since the liberation of the Nazi Concentration Camps of WWII. A scene, no one wants to witness again.

Awakening Old Dæmons (July 6, 2019)

They're back 

My night terrors. 

In a burning room

Fire dances 

Before me.

Seductively 

Flames sway

Suffocating my body. 

Awakened

Body - locked down mode

Sporadic muscles twitching.

Otherwise 

My leaden body 

Is normal.

By-product 

Childhood electrical burn

Around my mouth. 

Don't understand 

Why now? 

Thought 

Had settled

This old PTSD trauma.

Given distance 

Between recent events

Of several years. 

I was wrong.

As sleep becomes

A feared time 

Once more. 

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: This November will mark the 45th anniversary of the electrical scars,

around my mouth, both inside and outside of it. Have been told, I’m lucky to be alive, after

describing the events on that 1974 November night. I don’t remember the exact date, but

other details are burnt into my memory. 

My dad was working the afternoon shift, for the regional natural company, as a special

gas fitter. My brother had just turned 2 years old, the previous month. Mom was upstairs,

on the main floor of the bungalow, doing what, I don’t know. I was downstairs in the

basement, watching an old TV set, with the space heater plugged in. Feeling too hot, I

tried to unplug the heater, but failed. Instead of asking for help, from mom, I used my

teeth, to get a grip on the heater cord and the extension cord. Never realizing the danger that I was placing myself in, by doing so. 

Long story short, I ran upstairs, my mouth blown open from the electrical current that

travelled through me. Vividly remember, mom panicking, upon seeing my ruined face.

Calling our next store neighbour, the O’Connors, for guidance, where she should take

me, for emergency treatment, living in a small rural Ontario village, where the nearest

hospital was 30 minute drive, in good weather.

I remember mom placing me in the backseat, as she drove to Guelph’s St Joachim

Hospital ER, where I was placed on a hallway bed, as my face was examined by

the ER doctors. I don’t remember anything else, from that November night, except I,

now scared of open flames and sudden ignition of fire, when having to lit the pilot

flame on the family barbecue or gas stove.

Hidden Price Of Stonewall Riots (June 29, 2019)

Once home 

Anything remembered

Beyond partying 

At Stonewall Riots 

Fiftieth anniversary? 

Given bleak future 

Facing transpeople

Especially 

Those of colour. 

Some LGBTQ+ members 

Describe the United States 

A post-gay nation. 

Gay white men achievement 

Transphobic hijacking

LGBTQ+ rights movement.

Reflecting social hierarchy

Dominating straight cis-society.

Orthodox thinking/fundraising 

Primary focus 

Same-sex marriage. 

Although 

We fought 

On the front lines

Demanding the same rights.

Our needs ignored

Marginalized 

And questioned. 

United States - deadliest country 

Behind Mexico and Brazil

Being transgender. 

Especially 

If non-Caucasian

Few remember our passing 

Cases unresolved. 

To many 

Just another dead

Hooker tranny

In a pauper's grave. 

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: By-product of my @50 research, which I often found myself crying at the hostility of the transphobia that coloured American transwomen face, on a daily basis. I do hope that this will change for you, one day soon.

Righteous Soul? (July 2, 2019)

Times 

Question my existence.

Wondering 

Is enough done

Justifying presence

On this mortal coil.

Positive difference 

In someone else's life. 

As people 

Isolate themselves 

Within silos.

Can't/won't 

Open their hearts

Helping others.

Exposing humanity's 

Inner darkness

As innocence dies.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Started this poem, late July 1st, after everyone had finished their Canada

Day celebration. Wondering, will I be remembered, as someone who has made a

difference, in the wider world, around me? Truthfully, I can’t answer this question, for I

don’t know, how people view me, in their judgment eyes.

New Beginnings (July 1, 2019)

Not sure 

Why sudden tears 

Fill my eyes. 

Could it be 

A memory 

Of what I've lost 

In gaining this space 

For myself.

Seeking a place 

To call my own 

Without violence. 

Allowing dark memories 

Proper burial

Where they belong.

The past.

As Canada celebrates

It's independence

On July 1st. 

Therisa © 2019

Author's note: July 1st, marks the 13th anniversary of my accidental outing to my mom, after telling her that I wanted the holiday long weekend, by myself. Like usual, she refused to accept the boundaries, I wanted between us. Claiming I sounded depressed. Reality is, I am constantly living my life, depressed. Just that she hasn't noticed this fact of life. Truthfully, I didn't want to be around her, for the holiday weekend. 

Long story short, she rejected me, as her daughter. Sending me into a suicidal depression, which would cause me, my job and apartment. As I moved from Brampton (bedroom suburb) to a Toronto women's homeless shelter. 

I

Since July 3, 2007, I have been living at my current address, which my has visited twice, since then. Acting as a physical and mental boundary for me.

Dreamtime (June 25, 2019)

On reality's edge

Birthing hopes/fears.

Maelstrom 

Of raw emotions 

Lingering unfulfilled.

Existence - cruel joke 

Sans punchline

Lacking understanding

Logic/wit.

Wandering lost

Seeking lodestone

Guidance.

Leaving

Wilderness years

Behind me. 

In seeking 

Long hoped for 

Promised Lands.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: Scattered showers on June 25, is the genesis for this poem.

Nothing Lasts Forever (June 25, 2019)

Once more 

Pride over 

For another year. 

Unease fills me

Dark clouds

Hovering overhead.

Knowing 

How lucky 

I am. 

Leaving abusive past

And violence

Behind. 

But reality is 

So finicky. 

What's given yesterday 

Easily stripped today 

Or tomorrow. 

Blink of an eye

Shouted slurs

Promising violence. 

Questioning 

Personal safety 

Like never before

As tears fall.

Therisa © 2019