Some Sanity, Please (March 6, 2016)

www.cp24.com

Dear Powers To Be;

Am writing this

In protest

Over this winter's

Weather.

Is it

Asking too much

From You

For consistency?

Am

So sick and tired

Of feeling like

A ping pong ball

Being bounced

All over the place.

Never knowing

If I should

Be dressing up

In multiple layers

For the coldest day

Of winter.

Or

Breaking out

From storage

My Summer clothes

And sunscreen lotion

With a SPF of 1000

For my body.

A heavy sigh

Escapes

As I wonder.

Will we get

Any Spring

This year.

Or

Go straight away

Into

A long hot Summer.

With little

To no relief

From the needed

Spring showers.

I hope not.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: We were told, this year's winter, would be, an El Nino, never expecting an Artic Vortex that would be our guest, for February. As the weather bounced around. In one week, the temperatures jumped, from 14.8 C to -20something C, as the city of Toronto Public Health, declared an extreme cold warning, for the following 2 days. This is extreme, even for Canada.

A Side Trip Through Hell (March 6, 2016)

www.thewomenofchange.com

It's been 9 years

Since

I have quit

My last job

In utter frustration.

As

I found myself

Working in

An increasingly

Hostile environment.

With little

To no support

From management.

Know

I could have taken them

To the Labour Board

Or the Human Rights Commission

Over their actions.

But

Fuck'em

I needed out

Of there.

For the sake

Of my health

(Mentally

And physically).

Working

A minimum week

Of 50+ hours

Over 5 days.

On top of

A daily commute

Of a 3 hour

Round trip.

Never mind

My asking

To work

An 8 hour shift

Every fortnightl.

To attend

A support group

In Toronto.

Was like

Trying to remove teeth

From someone

Who has none.

As I tried

To transition

In this working Hell.

Looking back

Am better off

With less money

And stress.

As I take it

Slow

But constant steps

In my holistic healing.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: At the time, I was working for a small company located near, Pearson International Airport, in Mississauga, Ontario. When, I did quit, I tossed all of the inbound receipts, into the air, like Mary Tyler Moore did, with her hat, at the beginning, of her 1970s show. Not caring, where they landed.

A Crippled Soul (March 9, 2016)

stud7.tumblr.com

A sad sigh

Escapes

From her lips.

As

She looks over

The numerous responses

To her poem

About coming out.

Questioning

Her eyes.

As if

She was seeing things

On the computer screen

Before her.

For years

Those

Around her

Been expressing

Their support.

Despite this

She's left feeling

Weird and uncomfortable

With this outpouring.

Almost like

She's waiting

For the other shoe

To drop.

And

The abuse

To start

Once more.

Even though

That part of her life

Is years away.

She can

Still feel

Its destructive echo

Within her soul.

Just wanting

To be normal

Like everyone else.

In being free

From this harmful baggage

Of her past.

And not

This emotional cripple

Who's breaking down

In a public library

Like a little baby.

Therisa © 2016

Life's Grim Reality (March 6, 2016)

www.globalnews.ca

You call us

Mom sis daughter

Lover and friend.

And yet

For too many of us

Our lives are lived

In terror

Of you.

As we face

Sexual

Verbal

Psychological

And physical abuse.

Even if

We wanted to leave

With our children

The system is

Stacked against us.

With limited

To no shelters

Available

Depending on

Our county.

And those shelters

That do exist

Have a 3 month window.

After which

If we haven't found

Our own place

Are forced back

Into Hell.

Too often

Court orders

And peace bonds

Are worthless

As the paper

They're written upon.

With our deaths

Leading off

The local newscast

The following morning.

Please

I beg you.

Treat every day

Like

It's International Woman Day.

And not

Once a year.

In advocating

For real change

And equality.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note:  As the result of possible budget cuts, Toronto, almost lost one of its emergency family shelter, due to political partisanship. And yes, I have been part of the shelter system, in Toronto, instead of, choosing to move in, with my mom, after losing my apartment, in May 2007. As I faced the possibility of living, with my abusive brother.

Coming Out (March 8, 2016)

www.gettyimages.com

Letters swallow

Themselves

In seconds.   

As I attempt

To compose myself

Before sharing

My innermost thoughts

With you.

Scared

Beyond words

How you'll respond

To this unspoken truth.

Of finding out

You eldest son is

Really

Your eldest daughter.

Whether

You'll greet me

With an open heart

And a gentle hug.

Or

Turn away

With a closed heart

And a frigid frown

Upon your face.

Mentally

Flipping a coin.

As I open

My apartment door

To greet you

Mom.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: For many, in the LGBT+ community coming out, to a family member, is the hardest thing, we can do. Knowing, a rejection by them, can cause us, to react negative, and for some, this can mean, a suicide attempt. 

 Using, one line of the poem by Naomi Shihab Nye, Burning the Old Year , and write a new poem from it. The italicized lines are Naomi's.

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?

Paradoxically, Me (March 5, 2016)

www.blog.shareaholic.com

Before your eyes

My soul is

Being laid bare.

One word

At a time

On the page

And computer screen.

Like an onion

Each new poem

Is a different layer

Of experiences

I have lived.

Knowing

By doing this

Am creating

A polarized reaction

By my very existence.

For some

I am

An abomination

Meant to be

Put to death.

Others

A symbol of hope

And courage

By being 

Myself.

In the past

I hid

In the darkness

For my own protection.

And yet

Find myself

Torn

In two directions.

Whether

Or not

I should emerge

Fully

Into the light.

Exposing myself

To greater risks

And rewards.

Else

Move closer

To the grey shadows.

Offering me

A limited degree

Of protection

And possible benefits.

But

I want

Both.

Ok

Will admit

I'm being greedy.

Having been deprived

For so long.

Except

I'm scared

Will harm myself

For that very reason.

Like Icarus did

When he flew

Too close

To the sun.

As

An aspirated sigh

Escapes.


Therisa © 2016


Author's note: Releasing some inner angst, about my wanting to be more open, with my life, of being more socially engage then, I am, right now. Struggling, with anxiety and depression.


This is, the poem that inspired me, to write, "Just Another Brick, In The Wall".

Breaking The Ice (February 28, 2016)

www.lourenco.co.za

Seen

That look

Upon your face

As you learn

I'm trans.

One

Of shock

And surprise.

Unconsciously

You move

A step or two

Backwards.

As if

Being associated

With me

Will condemn you

To eternal Hell

For your soul.

Forgetting

For many people

I am

Their first exposure

To a trans-person.

Although

You have seen

Our stories

And struggles

On the TV.

Or

At the movies.

Often

We're portrayed

By cis-actors/actresses

Like we don't pass

For our chosen gender.

But

If you're willing

To set aside

Your religious

And cultural stereotypes.

And share

With me

A mug or two

Of Rooibos tea

We can talk.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: My doctor's office, is one of many satellite offices, for one of Toronto's major teaching hospitals, thus, I'm usually, the first trans-person, these interns have seen, as a patient. The medical schools don't have to offer any seminars on trans health, and usually, only one session of 2-4 hours, for gay and lesbian health. Given the long history of transphobia, within the medical community, it isn't surprising, when one looks at the facts. As gender dysphoria, was once considered, by the psychiatric community, as a mental illness.

My Alchemy Project (March 4, 2016)

www.history.com

Before me

A lump of virgin clay

Lays.

Unsure

How to express

Those images

That are trapped

Within my mind.

Just like

A blank page

In my writing book

Awaiting

My creative touch.

As my fingers

Move over

Its surface.

Mixing

The various media

Into a solution.

In my symbolic search

For the philosopher's stone

Of expression

And release.

In giving

Physical form

To the words

Of my poems.

Unleashing

My true artistic vision

Beyond

The written word.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Since January 2014, I have been attending an art studio, which offers an artistic program, for people with mental illness, socially isolated, and those, who are recovering from addictions. It's operated, jointly, by a local hospital and a NGO.

Sadly, I completed my first sculpture, and am awaiting, for it, to dry out, before it can be fired for the first time, and painted, before the second and final firing. Mostly, as the result, from my own battle, with anxiety and agoraphobia.

The Good-bye (March 1, 2016)

www.brands-list.com

A flower was
Offered to me
With a "Dear Joan" letter.

The flower
A single white rose.

Laying

Beside it

On the kitchen table.

You may think

I'm being selfish

For writing these words

To you.

But

I don't care

Anymore.

For I have

Given you

My best years.

Without

A second thought.

Only

To have you

Repay me

In this way.

Why

Didn't you tell me

About your struggles?

Did you think

I couldn't handle this?

Given

The Hell

We have walked

Through

Together.

Oh

My love.

You know

I would never

Shower you

In pity.

But

Offer you

A shoulder or two

To cry upon

When needed.

Now

Only memories

Are left.

As I see

Your solution

To your problem

Before me.

Needing

To call

911.

Good bye

My love.


Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Yeah, I know, this poem is a downer, but right now, am feeling very depressed. And is, reflective of my mood.


Am sorry, if I have caused any concerns about me, in regards, to this fictional poem. I have never found myself, in such, a situation.