Tuesday 9 July 2019

Surviving The Age Of Trump (July 9, 2019)

People will disagree 
What I'm writing. 

Never comfortable 
With strong courageous 
Or inspiration label. 

Accept survivor.

Often struggle
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.

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.

Flames sway
Suffocating my body. 

Body - locked down mode
Sporadic muscles twitching.

My leaden body 
Is normal.

Childhood electrical burn
Around my mouth. 

Don't understand 
Why now? 

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.

Wednesday 3 July 2019

Hidden Price Of Stonewall Riots (June 29, 2019)

Once home 
Anything remembered
Beyond partying 
At Stonewall Riots 
Fiftieth anniversary? 

Given bleak future 
Facing transpeople
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. 

We fought 
On the front lines
Demanding the same rights.

Our needs ignored
And questioned. 

United States - deadliest country 
Behind Mexico and Brazil
Being transgender. 

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.

Tuesday 2 July 2019

Righteous Soul? (July 2, 2019)

Question my existence.

Is enough done
Justifying presence
On this mortal coil.

Positive difference 
In someone else's life. 

As people 
Isolate themselves 
Within silos.

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. 
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.

Of raw emotions 
Lingering unfulfilled.

Existence - cruel joke 
Sans punchline
Lacking understanding

Wandering lost
Seeking lodestone

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.

How lucky 
I am. 

Leaving abusive past
And violence

But reality is 
So finicky. 

What's given yesterday 
Easily stripped today 
Or tomorrow. 

Blink of an eye
Shouted slurs
Promising violence. 

Personal safety 
Like never before
As tears fall.

Therisa © 2019

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