Just A Dream? (June 23, 2018)

For one weekend

Dr Martin Luther King Jr’s dream

Is alive and breathing

For all to see.

Regardless

Of one's gender sexuality

Or ethnicity.

We gather to celebrate

Diversity and harmony

Of the human spirit

In overcoming barriers

That society puts before us.

By reveilling

Our innermost feelings

Of identity and self-acceptance

Who we are

As a greater society

And individuals.

Where love isn't

Just a word found

In greeting cards

Wedding ceremonies

Or to religious sermons.

Rather

An expression

From within

A beacon fulfilling us

With hope.

Enabling society

To overcome hate

And ignorance

That threaten

To consume us.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: Maybe, I am a hopeless romantic, who dreams of a brighter future than the bleak present, we live in. Where it's so easy to be depressed and indifferent to the problems around us.

Another poem for this year’s Pride Poetry.

God Loves, Man Hates (July 15, 2016)

Each second

The circle grows

Tighter

Like a viscous noose

Around my soul.

Every passing day

Am surprised

At my endless supply

Of tears.

Growing heavier

In volume.

Wondering

Will this pain

Ever end?

At what started

As a small trickle

Has become

A raging river

Of blood and tears.

Covering everyone

Regardless

Of one's ethnicity

Nationality

Religious views

And gender.

Shall we

Be able to

Move beyond

Our hatred.

In embracing

Each other

As brothers 

And sisters.

Thus

Showing love

Isn't limited

Just to God

Alone.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Dedicated to, all victims of violence, wherever, you live. 

Yes, I am aware, that the title of this poem, is very similar, as the graphic novel, X-Men: God Loves, Man Hates, published by Marvel Comics. For many years, growing up, I found refuge, in the pages of X-Men comics, allowing me, a place to dream and hope for, a better future, from the violence plagued years of my childhood and into adulthood.

On The Wings Of A Butterfly (June 15, 2016)

balancesf.com

So easy

To let

My negative emotions

Go.

Like the prevailing wind

Carrying

A coal generation station's

Toxic emissions.

Polluting the land

With my hate

And anger

Downstream.

Destroying all

With my acidic touch.

As I struggle

Against the headwinds

Of hate.

That holds

The world

In its grasp

Today.

Knowing

Within my soul

A gentle breeze stirs.

Like

A butterfly flapping

Its wings.

Giving birth

To a new wind

Of change.

One

Filled with hope

And understanding.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For the past 3 days, I have been struggling, to come to grips, with the Orlando Massacre, emotionally, and as, a LGBT+ person. Knowing, I could have been, another stat, to add to the growing tally of LGBT+ people, who have been killed, for being ourselves.

Not exactly sure, why I choose to the butterfly, as a symbol of change and hope, Other then, it's one of the symbols that the Trans-community has adopted, as its own, for growth and metaphorsis of one's true self.

A Chance For Hope? (May 17, 2016)

www.pinterest.com

Please

Someone pinch me

To wake me up

Telling me

It isn't a dream

I am having.

Too many times

In the past

(Six previous denials)

We have reached

This point.

Only

To have

The rug pulled out

From us.

As if

Transgender rights

Doesn't matter

In a societal

And legal sense

In Canada.

Pardon me

As I wipe away

Tears of joy

And hope

For Bill C-16.

Knowing

What's written

On paper

Won't change

Attitudes.

But

One needs

A starting point

For real change

To occur.

Maybe

Bill C-16

Is it.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Today (May 17, 2016), Canada's federal government has proposed constitutional change that would protect a transperson, under the Charter of Human Rights and Freedoms. Choosing today, as it's International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia, for the announcement. The following link, is the announcement, of this proposed federal legislation:

http://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/transgender-bill-trudeau-government-1.3585522

My biggest fear is, these changes are cosmetic, only,  and don't have any real bite, to them, in protecting people, like myself. Much, like the old Soviet Union's constitution, great on ideals, but pitiful, on implementation.

Healing Blossoms (March 18, 2016)

www.thriftyfun.com

Am dreamin'

The long hard winter

Of my soul

Is slowly

Ending.

Having survived

Those long terror filled nights

Of my turbulent past

That replayed

Before me

In crystal clarity.

As the first 

Tender shoots

Of hope

Start to push through

My soul's frozen soil.

Knowing

There will be times

Which

I'll find myself

In the blackest

Of weather.

But

The worse has

Past.

Since

The last killer storm

Had blown across

My soul

Five years ago.

During

The holiday season

Of 2010-11.

As I reach out

To the emerging Sun

Bathing

In its warmth

And light.

Content

In the moment

Real change is

Slowly

Occurring.

Therisa © 2016

Am dreamin'

The long hard winter

Of my soul

Is slowly

Ending.

Having survived

Those long terror filled nights

Of my turbulent past

That replayed

Before me

In crystal clarity.

As the first 

Tender shoots

Of hope

Start to push through

My soul's frozen soil.

Knowing

There will be times

Which

I'll find myself

In the blackest

Of weather.

But

The worse has

Past.

Since

The last killer storm

Had blown across

My soul

Five years ago.

During

The holiday season

Of 2010-11.

As I reach out

To the emerging Sun

Bathing

In its warmth

And light.

Content

In the moment

Real change is

Slowly

Occurring.

Therisa © 2016

First Sign Of Spring (February 28, 2016)

www.twitter.com

By twos

And threes

The snowbirds gather

Bashing

In the Florida sun.

Loosening up

Their vocal cords

After a long winter

Of disappointment.

Chirping

Their territorial songs

"Let's go Blue Jays"

And

"Go Jays Go".

That strange bird

In black

Many have mistaken

As a "blind" bat

Is the umpire.

Shrieking out

"Ssstttrrriiikkkeee".

While

Displaying

Its ritual courtship dance

For all

To see.

Yes

Folks

It's Spring Training time

Once more.

Where

Dreams of glory

Fill young

And old

Alike.

As hope is

Eternal

To baseball fans.


Therisa © 2016


Author's note: As a baseball fan, need I say, more?

My Purring Panther (February 26, 2016)

Star, as kitten, on my dirty laundry.

Not sure

Why our paths crossed

As they have

Over 4 years ago

Star.

Except

Your very presence

Has offered me

A very rare gift

Of love and compassion.

From someone

Who has known

The toxic touch

Of being abused

And abandoned.

Of how

On your first night

You hid

Under the toilet cistern.

Scared

Out of your mind

With fear.

As I laid

A trial of kibble

From the bathroom

To the centre

Of my heart.

Little

Did I know.

The healer

Would become

The one

Who is

Being healed.

As I watch you

Over the months

Grow and heal

Into your true self.

Greeting me

Every time

I enter

Our shared apartment.

With your deep purr

And a gentle kiss

For me.

Forever leaving

Your paw print

Upon my beating heart

As you snuggle

Against me.

While

Laying down

To rest

For the coming day.

As I give you

Star

My daily thanks

For you're being

A part of my life.

Therisa © 2016

Author's notes: Am sorry, I don't have any decent photo, which shows Star, at her true self, as she is, extremely camera shy, whenever, I attempt to get a photo of her mature self, beyond the few of her, as a kitten.

A Heart's Cry (February 16, 2016)

www.myfinalphoto.com

Across

The Northern expanse

My soul does travel

Seeking refuge.

The Northern wind

Blows cold

Through ones body.

Leaving it

Frozen

To the core.

White tears

Gather around

My eyes.

Before falling

To the ground

In a pile of snow.

As I wonder

Will you

Be there?

When

As I stumble

And fall.

To pick me up

Again.

Sharing my love

With you

Now and forever.

Therisa © 2016

Author's notes: Something different, from me. Will admit, I had Sarah McLaughlin running through my mind, as I wrote. Guess, you could call it, a belated Valentine's Day poem.   

Family Ties (February 15, 2016)

Once more

It's the third Monday

Of February

As Ontario celebrates

Family Day.

You'll pardon me

If I don't join you

In its observance.

For

I am

A survivor

Of domestic violence

By a family member.

Even now

Almost nine years free

Of his physical presence.

But

His shadow

Still impacts

My daily life.

In being

Hyper-vigilant.

Jumping at

Any sudden

And loud noise

Like an argument.

Or

An apartment door

Being slammed shut.

Cursing

My long term memory

For capturing

In 4K detail

His attacks.

Of me

Cowering

In my barricaded bedroom

Crying myself

To sleep

In my late teens.

Wishing

I had died

From my electrical burns

In November 1974.

Can understand

Why some victims

Of abusive relationships

Kill their attackers.

Only recently

I have admitted

In wishing

I had killed him

After his preemie birth

In October 1972.

Thus

Sparing me

Decades of pain

And sorrow.

But

I realize

The road of "Only if"

Will lead me

Further astray

In my healing.

As I travel

The long and difficult path

OF reclaiming my life

One memory

At a time.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: This poem is, one of my most exhausting mentally and physically that I have written. It took me, 9 hours and 15 minutes, to do this. Needing several long breaks, to just write the first draft, in my writing workbook, yesterday. Not to mention, the 2 hours needed to transcribe this, onto one of e-mail accounts, before posting it, here. Right now, I can feel my stress levels reaching the point, I am  having, the beginning, of a very nasty tension headache.

The Dream Has Grown (February 11, 2016)

"A nation's greatness is measured by how it treats its weakest members." ~ Mahatma Ghandi


Have you

Ever have a dream

That you're willing

To pay the ultimate price

Like Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr?

Knowing

Your dream is

Bigger than

Any one person

Or organization.

Radically challenging

Society's paradigm

With its simple message

Of love and equality.

For many transpeople

Our very existence

Is a testament

To our community's dream

Of acceptance and equality.

Just stepping

Into a public space

Is truly

An act of courage.

Aware

In doing this

May mean

A death sentence.

As Canada

And the United States

Celebrate Black History Month

Throughout February.

The struggle

For human rights

Isn't just limited

To ones:

Skin colour

Religious observation

Gender

Or sexual orientation.

Rather

Involves everyone

For no one

Is truly free.

If one person

Remains repressed

In any manner.

And you

Dr. King

Your dreams

Still

Lives on.

Only

It's shared

By a wider community.

Who's hearts

Are filled

With its vision.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Although, I was born, into a white, middle class Canadian family, I have known, what it means, to live your life, in abject poverty. Having spent time, in the Toronto women homeless shelter system. Not a place, I want to go back to, again.


Like the Afro communities, of Canada and the United States, the Trans community knows, all too well, what the phrase, "strange fruit", which Billie Holiday sang about. Having your application rejected for housing, because, the landlord wasn't comfortable, with having "one of those tenants". As if, all trans-people work the street or use drugs. Never mind, the hidden crisis of mental heath problems that remain largely unaddressed, by society, at large. One need to hold onto a dream of hope, if they want to grow and heal, as a community, as a whole.

A Fate Worse Than Death (February 9, 2016)

www.forums.sega.com

Upon the wings

Of midnight black

I soak

The night's sky.

Seeking

My true love

Whom I lost.

As a murder of Crows

Scrawls Heaven

And Earth.

Where

I can't go.

As punishment

For dealing

In the darker arts.

By pursuing

Forbidden knowledge.

In the hope

Of curing

What was killing you

My wife.

Never realizing

In healing you

I was condemning us

To a fiery fate.

As that ignorant fool

Of a priest

Led the lynch mob

Against us.

With murder

In his heart.

Even now

On these dark

And lonely nights

A single blood red tear

Is sled.

As I remember

How I abandoned you

To your doom

On the pyre.

By invoking

My dark Masters

In a single moment

Of weakness

On my part.

For which

I was rewarded

By having my body

Transformed

Into dark sex siren.

Condemned

To roam

The nightly sex dreams

Of men.

Until

I find you

Once more

My dear  heart.

And earn

Your forgiveness

For my sins.


Therisa © 2016


Author's note: Every so often, I like to search, through the gothic images, and see, if there are anyone that pique my curiosity, to write a poem, about it. Sadly, I can't think of a gothic tune, which would compliment this event. Maybe, next time.

Why Can't I Be You? (January 26, 2016)

www.motherjones.com

Courage:

[kur-ij, kuhr-]

noun

1.

the quality of mind or spirit that enables a person to face difficulty, danger, pain, etc., without fear; bravery.

2.

Obsolete. the heart as the source of emotion.

Idioms

3.

have the courage of one's convictions, to act in accordance with one's beliefs, especially in spite of criticism.

source: www.dictionary.com

A gentle

But sad sigh

Escapes my lips

As tears roll down

My face.

In trying

To find

That inner strength.

That you say

Shines like a beacon

Through the darkness

I have walked

In my journey

To here.

Having lost

Everything of value

To my body and soul.

For this need

Of mine.

Correcting

A genetic birth defect

Being born

Within the wrong body

Of a male.

Which

Society views

As normal.

Despite

Viewing myself

As a woman trapped

Within a male shell

Of a body.

Won't burden you

With the years

Of abuse and bullying

That has marked my life.

Since

I realized

This inner truth

At the tender age

Of four.

Within my head

The voices

Of my abusers

Ringing out.

Cursing me

With such crude

And hurtful language.

No child should

Ever know.

Fuelling their need

For power

And control.

By expressing

Their fear

At that

Which

Is different.

Sadly

As adults

These children

Haven't learnt their lessons.

As the fire

Of transphobia

And homophobia

Burns brightly

In their souls.

Consuming

Whatever remains

Of their logic centre

In a Gray hateful ash.

And yes

There times

I have felt

My life

At risk.

In spite

Of this fact

I move forward

In my healing pilgrimage.

Uniting my body

With the feminine soul

I was born

Within.

Thus

Completing

This cycle.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: By the age of twelve, I had attempted, at least 3 different times, to end my life, which I have never told my parents, about. My last 3 years of high school, was marked, by a nightly visit to the kitchen, where I tried to pierce my chest, with one of the meat knives, but I lack the strength to push it, into my chest cavity.


After coming out, accidently, to my mom, over the 2006 Canada Day long weekend, she told me:


"Hell would have to freeze over, and I would have to, come crawling on my hands and knees, begging her, for forgiveness, before she would think about it."


Needless, to say, I was thrown for a dark suicidal depression that lasted, the entire month of July. Nearly costing my job, as a result. With the help and support of a very special friend, I wouldn't be here, to share this, with the world. Thank you, Z.


The title of this poem, is a reference to the British Goth group, The Cure, who's dark and melodic tunes have helped me, during my bout of dark depression. Also, refers to my needing to live my life, as a woman, who is...simply elegance.

The Mountain Of Life (January 20, 2016)

www.agreekadventure.com

It stands

Before me

Like K2

Or Mount Everest.

Taunting me

To assault

Its steep slopes.

My hands

Searching for

That elusive grip

To propel me

Upwards.

Having spent

What seems

Like an eternity

On this rocky outcrop.

Scared

To look down

Where I've climbed

Over the past decade.

Afraid

I'll lose my footing

As vertigo

Over takes me.

(My fear of heights

Is second

To that

Of needles.)

Having

Already fallen

Backwards.

Losing several meters

(And years)

As a result.

Forced

To restart

From the base

Up.

Without

The same margin

Of error.

I

Once

Had.

Knowing

My future health

And any possibility

Of SRS.

Hang

In the balance.

Regaining control

Over my Type II diabetes

And mental health.

As I retrace

My steps

Upon the rock cliff.

Hoping

Of reaching

My dream's summit.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Yesterday (January 19, 2016), I had an appointment, with my diabetic nurse and dietitian, at their downtown Toronto office, as part of the follow-up, to my starting a new med, just before Christmas, last year. At the time, my glucose reading were dangerously high, in the low to mid-20s mmol/L. In Canada, a healthy person, should readings between 4 and 6 mmol/L, during a blood test. A diabetic is considered, within acceptable levels, if they test, between 4 and 7 mmol/L, before eating or drinking any food. At two hours afterwards, it increases between 5 and 10 mmol/L, for diabetics.


Lucky me, I get to see my family doctor and have fasting blood work done, tomorrow morning. A task, I'm not looking forward to, in having, to go and see the vampires, in the lab. Sigh.

Mt. Melancholy (Janaury 18, 2016)

www.emaze.com

Today

I find myself

Walking

Under the shadow

Of darkness.

As old memories

Spring forth

Like an avalanche.

Cascading down

The snow covered

Mountainside.

As if

I have taken

The wrong trail

Into a forbidden area

With my ignorance.

Burying me

So deep

In the memories

Of a darker time.

Each passing second

The burden grows heavier

Upon my soul.

Am struggling

To find up

From down

With little avail.

Feeling

My inner spark

Growing dimmer

As the tears fall

Down my face.

Knowing

How easy

It would be

To surrender myself

And let everything

Go.

In my wanting

To remain

In the foetal position.

Until

My oxygen runs out

Fading out

Into the night

Forever.

But

I know

These feeling

Shall pass.

As I dig

My way out

Into the light

Once more.


Therisa © 2016




Author's note: Not exactly sure, what triggered the events of last Monday, January 18, 2016, when I found myself, buried, under a sudden wave of dark memories. Almost 36 hours later, am still struggling with the aftermath of this, as emotionally, I feel numb, and have lost all contact, with my poetic muse. If I was, to describe this, it feels like a PTSD flashback, without any of the visible images, normally, would have experienced, with one. In being, a total sensory overload of my emotions, in a three hour period, on Monday. Much like the type, I would associate, around my electrical burn, to my mouth, as a four year old.

Opening Up One's Eyes (November 7, 2015)

Courtesy of www.newwayministery.wordpress.com

In my mind

The old Negro gospel

"We shall overcome"

Is being sung

Before my eyes.

Looking back

More than 60 years

In the struggle

For Civil Rights

And true equality.

Of the many senseless deaths

Which mark

Our journey forward

From the darkness

Of hate and fear.

Despite

The many legal battles

Fought and won.

Still

I feel like

A third class citizen

In the country

I was born

In.

With it's rigid hierarchy

That places

Anyone

Who is different

On the outside

Looking in.

Tolerating us

Like a boorish family member

They want

To disappear.

I wish

You could experience

A week

In my shoes.

Confronting

The societal

And institutional barriers

You've erected

Over the centuries.

In keeping

Yourself

Safe

From the reality

Of my life.

Realizing

Your position of power

Is paid.

At a heavy price

By people

Like myself.


Therisa © 2015

Author's note: This is, one of two poems that I wrote for Day of Trans-Remembrance, November 20, 2015. The other one, titled, "The Crater", is in the process of having a clay ceramic statue being created, as I write this. Am hoping, I can have it painted and done, its second and final firing. Thus, being able to post together, here.


For those, who are just discovering me, I have survived numerous attempts on my life, from a family member, whom I have broken off, all ties with, since August 2007. Also, have threatened, by various individuals, who have chased me, on foot or by rode the back of my legs, with their car, while laughing, about it. As if, it was one huge joke, with me, being the punch line, to it.


And sadly, I have tried, on numerous occasions, to take my life, when my depression has reached, such dark levels, the bottom of the Black Sea is a brilliantly lit walk, in the park, by comparison. With my last attempt occurring, during the holiday season of 2010-11.

The Long Run (January 4, 2016)

You think

I would be

Jumping

Over the moon.

Upon achieving

This milestone

Of five years.

Since

My last suicide attempt.

And yet

A sense of sadness

Fills me.

As the tears stream

Silently

Down my face.

Dreading

The coming month

That January is

For me.

Marking

The coldest month

Of the year

Leaving the soul

Bitterly fragile

To the touch.

Each black "X"

Upon the calendar page

Symbolizes

One less day.

Until

The end

Of this race.

And

February's arrival

With its coming thaws.


Therisa © 2016

Author's Note: The month of January, marks the end, of my annual Fall/Winter depression, which has traditionally, seen an increase, in my suicidal feelings, with the two dark periods of November 11th-20th, and December 24th-January 2nd. January 3, 2016, marked the fifth anniversary, of my last suicide attempt, since the holiday season of 2010-11. Also, the first time, since then, I have found myself, on the edge between passively and actively suicidal, with my suicide index, at 5, out of 10. Where 10 means, I have committed suicide, and someone else is writing about my death to you.

Welcome To Canada, Eh? (January 9, 2016)

TheStar.com. Designed by Elise Gravel.

Am

Not surprise

Someone has targeted

A gathering

Outside

Of a Muslim centre.

Given

Canada's long history

Of Xenophobia

And racism.

Myself

The child

Of an immigrant.

Who came

To Canada

During the 1950s

As a teenager.

Anger

And frustration

Grips my soul.

Naively believing

Things would be different

For the newly arriving

Syrian refugees.

Being able

To call

Canada

Their home.

Without any fear

Of being attacked

For their religious beliefs.

In leaving behind

All the violence

Of the Syrian civil war

And the refugee camps.

How I do say

"I'm sorry

For the ignorant actions

Of a few bigots?"

As this

Is your first exposure

To life

In Canada.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: On Friday, January 8, 2016, a group of 30 Syrian refugees, where pepper sprayed, by a passing cyclist, which included children. Under BC law, pepper spray is considered a weapon, and this cyclist will be charged with assault, causing bodily harm. I do hope that this person, has the guts to step forward and take responsible, for his misguided actions. Am, including an link, to the assault.


http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/pepper-spray-attack-1.3396899


Earlier today, a planeload carrying the 10 000th Syrian refugee arrived, in Canada, twelve days later that the Liberal government had originally projected, after realizing the logistic nightmare that faced them. I do hope, with the increase refugees, the Federal and Provincial governments increase the money that spent on mental illness, from its pitiful levels, at the moment. Also, increase their involvement, with affordable housing, for all Canadians, new and old. Thus, everyone benefits from the arrivals of the Syrian refugees.
http://www.reuters.com/article/us-canada-syria-migrants-idUSKCN0UQ2HS20160112

The Road Taken (January 8, 2016)

Never thought

I would be

Looking back

In a positive way.

On losing

My apartment

And ending up

In a homeless shelter.

Knowing

I can laugh

About it

Now.

Never realizing

How big

Of a barrier

Moving to Toronto

Would be.

Physically

And psychologically

In my liberation

Of you

Mom.

In beginning

My life

Anew

As a woman.

No longer

Needing to hide

In the darkest gender closet

Filled with fear

Of being discovered.

Will admit

I wasn't prepared

For the culture shock

That greeted me

At the woman's homeless shelter.

Struggling

With chronic anxiety attacks

And depression

In a brutal environment

Like a fish

Out of water.

Especially

Being pre-everything

In regards

To my transitioning.

Beyond knowing

My true name

Therisa.

Taking extra precautions

So no one saw

My ugly male body.

Unless

Fully dressed.

Dreading

Someone would see

Or react

To me

As a male.

Knowing

I wouldn't survive

In a man's homeless shelter

Without being raped

Or brutally beaten up.

Never

Feeling safe.

Until

I had my own apartment

Again.

To further

My self-exploration

Of the feminine side.

Learning

My true self.


Therisa © 2016

Author Note: June 3, 2007, found myself, at the front door, of a woman's homeless shelter, in downtown Toronto, with a suitcase and duffel bag, filled with woman's clothing. Interesting enough, my mom never asked me, if I wanted to move out, to the country, until I got myself, back on my feet, again. A move, in retrospective, would have signed my death warrant, given her negative reaction, to coming out to her, as a trans-lesbian. Being forced to be dependant on her, for transportation for all of my medical appointment.