Three Short Poems. Semicolons, curses, and allies.

Three short poems for day three of National Poetry Writing Month.

I'd love to have more energy to write something following one of the prompts.  Never mind.  It's been a great day.  I decided I would be well and my decision worked well enough that I could go somewhere I've never been before, walk eight miles, and see some great things.  I'll get all my photos onto the laptop soon and blog them.  They won't be writing blogs but since I haven't managed to post on my other blog at all this year - and added all the old posts to this blog - I might as well post about my little adventures here.

For now though three poems.  All based, loosely or tightly, on incidents that have affected me over the weekend.  The first hit me.  I never knew Amy Bleuel but her idea has helped many people including people I do know.  I don't like tattoos at all really but even I've been half-tempted.

News of her death, by suicide, touched me more than I would have expected.  And I think of myself too.  For all the times I could have been a full stop.  I am a semicolon and I continue.  For that I count myself very fortunate indeed.  And it's not something I ever want to take for granted.

Sad news.  Very sad.  As I type I am wanting to cry.

Haiku For Amy Bleuel

The saddest of days.

When your hard-fought semicolon

Became a full stop.

Uncursed

A transwoman asked the world:

“Is it a curse

To be transgender?”

She proclaimed it was.

And others agreed.

I screamed. “No way.

I'm not cursed, nor blessed

With my minority status.

Deserve more love not less

Though some may hate us.

My self-acceptance

Leads to a warm hearth.

To paths self-strewn with blossoms

And a world smiling with me.

Rejoicing in the uniquely similar.”

They didn't listen.

I was pissing into the wind

With a woman's penis

They could not accept.

The False Ally

There's no such thing as autism.

It's all caused by vaccines

And my autistic son

Gets messages from God

That you all need to listen to.