A Crippled Soul (March 9, 2016)

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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.

Just Another Brick, In The Wall (February 27, 2016)

www.123rf.com

Before me

One of my writing books

Lays open

With three stanzas

Written out.

As I struggle

With a learning disability

That locks away

My thoughts

Behind

A mental wall.

(One of several

I have been diagnosed

So long ago

In grade seven.)

Which makes

The Great Wall of China

Appear like

A backyard fence

Between neighbours.

My pen lays

Beside the book

As one of the cats

Gives friendly swats

At it.

Driving me

Nuts

As I know

What I want to write.

For I can

Describe it

To you

In full detail

But

Can't transcribe it

Onto the written page

Or computer screen.

Is it

Any wonder

My exam times.

Whether

At high school

Or university

Were very anxious periods

For me.

Never mind

My small cramp writing

That I had

A high school teacher

Tell me:

"Type it

Or else."

Implying

It wouldn't be

Looked at

By him.

Thus

A failing mark

For me.

Know

I should place this

Aside

For now.

But

Can feel it.

So close

To be

Bursting out

From this mental prison

Of mine.

As it

Slips away

From me.

With

A frustrated sigh

I walk away.

Hoping

Next time

The wall been removed.

Allowing me

To finish

This poem.

Therisa © 2016

Author's note: Since, I started kindergarten (1975), until I got my B.A.(1994), I have been, in and out, of special education classes, for various reasons, but only, got tested for learning disabilities, during the school year of 1983-84. The results showed, I was an above average student, at the second deviation for I.Q, reading level of first year university, with a reading comprehension, at grade 11, and spelling level, at the 25th percentile (which means, 75 % of my age cohort is ahead of me.).


Never mind, my grades were C's and D's, on the report card. Or that my grade one teacher failed me, for being "lazy", on my final report card. Ironically, they told my parents, not to show me, this learning assessment, as if, I would develop a huge ego, from reading this. When, the opposite is true, as I have low self-esteem and self-confidence.  Something, the report failed to discover.

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.