We invite Penny Post readers to submit their poems to be included in this section. Please send them to [email protected]
She looks in the mirror and wonders, if her face is looking too chiselled today.
She frantically tries to define her cheekbones with even more makeup
Her thoughts seep into a dark chasm of having to go past those builders
who holler transphobic slurs at her.
Would it be easier if she just let the blackness take her beyond existence
so the excruciating pain of her life can no longer harm her?
The man in the mirror looking back with large breasts,
is not the man that he knows inside.
But his family, neighbours and people he meets don’t see
that strong male image he knows he can be.
They see a withered insignificant female mess.
He knows in a spiritual sense he has chosen a difficult path.
One which, is shrouded in pain, ostracisation disrespect and failure.
The shadow looms over him
Like a candle that once flickered a hopeful glow in better times is just snuffed out.
All is dark, the man and woman have succumbed to their torture
and gone over to the event horizon.
Let them not die in vain.
Birds on the horizon by Ginette Gibson
With beating wings the birds do fly
As all the seasons pass us by
The eagle soars in skies above
And brings the peace just like the dove
And hail the swift so fast it flies
To the horizon in the skies