Q – How many trans people does it take to change a light bulb?
A – Only one, but they have to live for a year in the dark to be completely, absolutely sure it needs changing and have the confirming opinions of 2 electricians (at least one with a PhD).
I ran across this in a folder of poems, and I honestly cannot recall if I wrote this or not…I always include info about the author as a footnote when I save someone else’s poem, and I did not with this one…and yet I just do not think I wrote this. It is in my style, yes, but some of the words are words that surprise me…but then again that often happens to me.
At any rate, this poem is about me and my inner woman who longs to be set free…and also about my inner eternal self, encased in this carnal cap waiting to manifest the metamorphaeo that is ongoing, and soon to show forth.
Chrysallís
She is more
Than the
Chrysós of
Her word shaped
Cocoon
Swivel behind
Each syllable
And feel the
Moving segments
As she atones?
Is she soundless?
In her Chrysallís
Or simply
“along with,”
“among,”
“after,”
“behind,”
“beyond,”
She is mine… not mine
She is pupa to imago
In each split-second
I wrestle with her between
Each wing expansion
Sharing the veins
Of Pure (H)ellenian
Blood
And I await a sign,
from You, Director
Maestro of Mercy
and stark eyes.
Beckon me…direct me,
and I a flute
to Your lips
shall my soul trill
in response,
and I will move.
But oh Rose behind the Sun,
enlighten me
Your benighted and blind daughter…
Am I coming out?
Or entering in?
Draw me in,
Redness of my Heartbleed
To the cross which hangs
Heavy…
Between
Heaven and Earth
Spirit and Dust
In and out…
Me and myself
And You.
One last post for now
No Roadmaps Now
You are going the same place
you always were. We are…
all of us going there.
Blows rain down in cloudburst clamour
We are nails…we get pounded.
“God pounds his nails” the character said.
But it’s in your face now
It is in your gut, gripping and gnawing
Who will you listen to now? The fear? The pain?
Their song is always the same…threats, mocking laffs
Rinse repeat, booga booga boo!
Their voices have no power but what you loan them!
And you need all your power to yourself. Dare you empower yourself?
Dare you look past the prejudices, the religious fig leaves, the uncertain awkward fears
of the many who swim on the surface? Their lack does not change the available!!
Look not inside, for there you see
the dandelions…harmless in appearance, but the slightest puff
and they spread thru you…and clone themselves
Until you are no longer a rose but one big dandelion.
Look not around to others…they are faithfully what they are…UNABLE.
you have no roadmap, you have no footsteps to follow
But you DO have a COMPASS…a SEXTON…
Instruments of old to navigate by Unseen and Signifiers.
You have a sigil…but it is called FAITH
So get you up in the morning…sing
Wash your face. Sing
Choose your life today…Sing
Control what you can, and all else hits the umbrella of SING.
Blaze me a trail baby…for I am on the same path.
My body doesn’t know it yet.
And along the way I will catch up to you
We will walk together, hand in hand into that night…
but fear not, cus I know the One who has overcome that night
and walks in Day forever
Call out! There is no roadmap baby
Follow your heart…walk on the water!
What is there to lose?
Only fear and pain.
Charissa's Grace Notes 
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