A Poetic Letter To Australia (January 3, 2020)

Dear Australia;

In your time of need

You're not alone

Battling these wildfires

On your eastern coast.

Over the years

Australia has

Generously helped

Battled forest fires

In Canada.

Only wish

It was possible

To ship Lake Ontario's

Excess water.

As this freshwater

Will be released

Into the Atlantic Ocean

From the St Lawrence Seaway.

Else

Send RCN resources

If asked

Evacuating trapped citizens.

But

I don't expect

PM Morrison will do so

Given his government

Handling of this crisis.

May the Goddess'

Healing mercy

Rest on those

Facing this Herculean task

Before your nation.

As Morrison displays

His inability to lead

In a time of national crisis

With his lack of comprehension

To Australia's specific needs

And global warming.

One Australian death

Is one

Too many.

From a sincere

And thankful

Canadian.

Therisa © 2020

Letter To My Depression (December 6, 2011)

Hello

Old friend

Been awhile

Since our last meeting.

Not sure

Why I'm calling you

A friend.

Given

Our very destructive

Relationship

Over the years.

Which

More often

Than not

Have seen me

Trying to end

My life.

You realize

I am so tired

Of your presence

In my life.

Turning

My life

Upside down.

May surprise you

And accept your offer.

Just

To shut you

Up.

Silencing

Your seductive voice

Inside my head

Once and for all.

Therisa © 2011

Author's note: Another poem from my poetic morgue.

A Ghostly Poetic Letter (June 4, 2017)

May 12, 2017

Happy birthday

Dad.

Been awhile

Since my last letter

To you.

Wish

I could take you

In my arms

And share 

A hug or two.

Possibly

Shed a tear 

On your ghostly 

Shoulder.

Past year 

Or so

Have been tough

On my health

(Mentally and physically).

As I adapt

To my aging body

And the stresses

Placed upon it.

Like injecting insulin

On a nightly basis

Even though

Am deeply fearful

Of needles.

Never forgetting

Your smiles and hugs

Brightening up 

Whatever darkness

That threaten 

To swallow me.

Thank you

Dad

For the memories

And lessons

You taught me.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: Another one of my poetic letters, to my dad.Please forgive me, for the lateness, in completing this poetic letter, but for the past 5 weeks, I have been sick, with infections, in my chest and throat, delaying my writing. Am slowly, getting better, and restarting to write again.

It may look like, I am having an explosion, in posting poems, but, in reality, am just finishing up numerous poems that I have set aside, for various reasons.

A Letter To Whomever (April 5, 2014)

Dear Whomever;

 

What you are

About to read

Isn't a justification

Of my reactions.

 

Rather

The situations

I have faced

During my life.

 

For those

Who don't know me

I was born

Transgendered.

 

A girl trapped

Within a boy's body.

 

Like most trans-people

I knew

At an early age

My body is

Different.

 

The few happy moments

Of my early childhood

Which I can remember.

 

Happened

As a 4

Or 5 years old.

 

Exiting the bathroom

With a towel

Around my armpits

Like mom.

 

Mom dusting me

With her rose scented

Talcum powder

Just like she does

After a bath.

 

Or using the foam

From a scented bubble bath

To give me

A chest like her.

 

Even now

A small smile

Graces my lips

At these memories.

 

Sadly

A hot summer's day

In August 1977

A Sunday

To be exact.

 

When my dreams

Came crashing down

Like a toxic avalanche

Of hate and fear

Upon me.

 

Learning the hard way

"Little boys" shouldn't be

Wonder Woman

While playing superheroes.

 

Pedaling away
In abject fear

As fast as

My little legs could

Back home.

Vowing

Never again

Shall I let her out

Into the light.

 

For the danger

Is too great

If I want to survive.

 

As the verbal

And physical blows

Rained down

Upon my body and soul

Like an unrelenting hailstorm.

 

Sinking

Ever deeper

Into Hell.

 

Keeping quiet

For 28 years

While Death appeared

The perfect solution

For my pain.

 

Until November 15, 2005

When the shackles

Fell from my body

At dad's graveside.

 

Relearning a truth

I had buried

So deep

Within my soul.

 

I am

A woman.

 

As the tears flow

Slowly eroding

The decades of self-hate

I had bottled up.

 

Must admit

This treacherous road

Which I travel upon

Is filled with many sorrows

And joys.

 

Able to break

A lesser heart

Than mine.

 

When rejected

By love ones

Who should be

Supporting you

During a trial

Like this.

 

But the truth has 

Never been

An easy mistress

To truly embrace

At any time.

 

As the past 9 years

Have proven to me

Forced to relearn

What true friendship is.

 

As the little girl

Is released

From her decades-long

Imprisonment

And into the light

To play.

Therisa © 2014

Author's note: Another poem taken, from my poetic vault, previously unposted poem, to any site. Occasionally, I will write a letter, in the form of a poem, to express thoughts or ideas that tradition forms limit me, from doing.

Poetic Letter To Dad (January 15, 2016)

www.affairscloud.com

Dad

I know

You have taught me

To suppress my emotions.

As you felt

I wasn't behaving

Like a six

Or seven year old boy.

And not

The real me

Who I viewed

As a girl.

A lesson

I have learnt

All too well.

But now

Dad

We need to

Part company

On this

For my continuing healing.

True

In the past

I have used

My pent-up anger

As an energy source

On steroids.

As

I waged war

Against the systematic barriers

Society has placed

Before me.

In regarding

My various learning disabilities

Abuse survivor

Constant struggle

With mental illness

And being

A transsexual.

I promise you

Dad

This doesn't mean

Mom's and M's actions

Are forgotten

By me.

Doing so

Would be saying:

"The Nazis didn't kill

Over 6 million Jews

Or used death camps

To so."

But

Am scared

By releasing

These suppressed emotions.

I'll experience

More bouts

Of PTSD rage.

Like the ones

I have experienced

In the past.

Which

A murderous rage

Consume my soul

Leaving nothing behind.

Only reason

I am not rotting

In a federal jail cell

Psychiatric hospital

For the criminally insane

Or six feet under.

Is pure luck

Of being isolated

From this person

Who sparked this rage.

Alas 

They don't know

Of this

And hope

They never do.

Soft sigh

Escapes my lips

As I hope

My worse fears

Are totally groundless.


Therisa © 2016




Author's note: Occasionally, I write these poetic notes, to my love ones, like this, to my dad (who died November 15, 1998), as a way of expressing those thoughts that I have trouble speaking, out loud. Only wish, I could have told him, the truth, about myself, being transsexual, before his untimely death.