Hijacked Spine Poetry

Book spine poetry2a

(Picture by  Melanie Blackwell) 

 

Hijacked Book Spine Poetry 

By Kira A. Moore

 

Jonny Gun,

Comes,

To Kill A Mockingbird.

 

Found this on a reblog and just had to pick it up and run…

Reblog: Rethinking Life

Original: Wordifull

 

A huge thank you to both for bringing this wonderful poem to the world.

An Ode To A Childhood Memory

An Ode To A Childhood Memory

By Kira A. Moore

 

Where did they go?

Those raskily rabbits,

Those multi colored eggs?

 

Where is the

The pink plastic grass,

And cardboard baskets?

 

Where are the Peeps

In their rainbow of

Sugar induced hallucinations?

 

The two pound

Chocolate bunnies

Melting in tiny hands?

 

Lost somewhere

Beneath the

Easter Sunday snow!

And So Here We Are

There are times when it is difficult to find the right words for your thoughts and emotions. Sometimes it seems easier to avoid them all together, though we all know sweeping problems under the preverbal rug does nothing but cause more problems.

It doesn’t stop us from trying…

 

Friday I found myself mentally and emotionally drained. Just thinking was a monumental task. I had to walk to the store to get a few things and I looked forward to the time alone to catch my breath.

As I returned home I had a chance to see the onramp to a bridge… The sweep of the grey pavement backed by blue sky reminded me of the highway I once followed into Florida. A seemingly endless ribbon leading ever onward… In that moment I felt as if I could keep walking and follow it forever…

I wanted to… 

I didn’t obviously, yet this lead me into deeper, darker waters and I realized, no matter how many times I tall myself ‘everything is off the table’, the truth is… It never has been, nor will it ever be. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself things are better or I am stronger… There is and will remain a door opened in the back of my mind from which the voices whisper, telling me this way is simpler… 

Rest.

Peace.

Numbness.

Forever.

 

It is a battle I have fought since I was ten years old and I will still be fighting it the day I die. Medication and therapy help more than I can explain here, but this is a fundamental piece of who I am, just as my freckles and blue eyes. I cannot explain the why of it, just that it is…

There is also the matter of how I choose to present myself to the world. This is something which goes far beyond clothing, mannerisms, or even attitudes… It is me at the most fundamental level. It is how I see myself when everything else has been striped away.

I have spoken of ‘going full time’, meaning in my outward presentation, yet I have long been full time on the inside… Yet between the two waits fear. The fear of the simple and mundane to the complicated matters of interpersonal relationships. 

Because of this fear I have not been able to bring the two sides together; not completely and so there has remained this idea in my mind of being able to choose how I wish to be seen… 

Which is nothing more than lie I have insisted on believing because the truth is painful.

However, I would say truth is a tenacious mistress and she will not be denied forever.

As time as passed i have been gendered as female more and more regardless of what I thinking or doing. My clothing doesn’t matter and at times even what I see as obvious signs are ignored and I am addressed as Mam, Miss, Lady, or referred to as a woman. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not complaining, just the opposite, yet I have wondered more than once what had changed….

I was me.

I’m what changed.

A mentioned today, when I’m not trying, I present as androgynous at best. I’m just not obviously male and so most people will either err on the side of feminine or go with neutral greetings. Makes sense when I think about it.

As time passes I can see this happing more and more until no one will accept me as anything else.

The hard part is going to be accepting myself in the same way…

 

As so often happens, the end brings us to the beginning.

Today I had another therapy session and everything I have spoken about here was the main focus. 

This is something Jodi has pointed out more than once and is part of what has lead to my thoughts of everything being a series of circles. The thing I have to remember is each circle is a little wider than the one before and even though it may seem I a walking over the same ground, I’m really not and each step has brought be a little further away from where I started. 

However, there are some things which have remained with me, and likely will. My depression, my memories, and yes, the suicidal thoughts. The difference is in how I deal with them. In how I have gained the means to redirect them so, while I may struggle with them mentally, I do not act out.

I mentioned my tendency to overthink things, to mull them over until they are mush, then fashion them into weapons to hurt myself… thankfully mentally and not physically… though there have been times…

She pointed out something and I know she is right, I have a number of things to deal with and different levels on which I have to operate simply because of who I am…

You see, there is the depression, then there is being Transsexual. All of which is on top of something I hadn’t realized was a factor in how I deal with things, which is that I am also an artist. She pointed out the way I describe things; people, places, things, all of which I do in ways most people wouldn’t do because I see them differently. I feel them differently, and I remember them differently.

I suppose this is a long winded way of saying I’m complicated…

Still, I can see how the way I process things is different from those around me which leads me to thinking and worrying about things most people don’t ever think about or even consider. They simply don’t experience them the same way I do… sort of like how it is difficult for most people to understand how an autistic person sees the world, I’m just not as disconnected.

And so here we are.

I have to stop lying to myself and accept the truth, heart, mind, and soul.