Wooden Heart

The Heart Shaped Box

Hearts within heart shaped box

unique like no other

free form from cedar aged

like marble roses

like no other place

Adélaïde Herculine Barbin

Brief biographical note about Adélaïde Herculine Barbin

Adélaïde Herculine Barbin was born November 8, 1838 in Saint-Jean-d’Angély
(Charente-Maritime) and officially registered as female. She spent her childhood
in an orphanage and later at the Ursilines convent of Chavagne.

Between 1856-1858 Herculine Barbin studied at Oléron’s Normal School and
received her degree. At 21 she became a school teacher and met Sara, the
youngest daughter of Mrs. Avril, the headmistress of the school. Gradually, the
friendship between the two girls turned to love. But, when acting on their
feelings for each other, Sara realized that Herculine was not made like most
girls. Herculine was forced to resign from her job and after a medical
examination required by the authorities who became involved in the matter, she
was then forced to live as a man. Herculine became Abel but when he returned to
the village, Mrs. Avril refused to let him see Sara. On a cold February day in
1868, Abel Barbin’s dead body was discovered, the victim of an apparent suicide
by carbon monoxide poisoning from the small stove in his apartment.

Herculine Barbin, one of the most famous intersexed persons in history,
makes us question whether we can live as we are with our difference. Her life
also forces us to question this world which has created standards which we are
obliged to try to meet or otherwise face rejection. The individual can exist
only by assimilation into these norms and being like everyone else. She lived a
life of absolute fear. The agony of seeing her terrible secret revealed. The
terror of having to pay for a mistake that she did not make and of the shame for
being who she was.

Suffering, endless suffering. He had to leave everyone he loved to plunge
into the cold depths of isolation. Her life is a great story of pure love,
fatally destroyed by ignorance and intolerance.

Curtis E. Hinkle

Founder, OII

Organisation Intersex International

About Intersex Folks, not the Gender Police

Intersexualite.org

Now more than Ever

At funerals, people comfort each other with words like, you'll see them again. It is a comforting thought, we can relax our regrets for not being there for them as much as we feel we should had been. It relieves these regrets, offers another time to plan for, but not for me. This is all lies, when, where and all the other logistics to get to that place where you will see them again, well is impossible.

 

Having no faith in an afterlife, we tend to take each moment we have with our friends, family and loved ones as if it were the last. Not, I will let them know how much they meant to me, at a later time, after death. It is that simple, to me.

 

This is not the first I have experienced lose of friends or family so many in such a short time yes, but nothing new about these I didn't realize a very long time ago. When they are gone from life, they are gone from my life, forever. It is important to understand that aspect of a atheist.

 

Not intending to take the comfort away, just saying the comfort zone is now while your alive, there will be nothing after, no time left saying there is more time in an afterlife is just lying to yourself.

Awakening

from a dream,

of bathing and stepping out of the bath onto a powdered tile floor, is all I can recall and the fuzzy rug on the floor. Have no idea where it was I awoke from, but it reminded me of you. all morning long

 

You probably haven't given me a moment of thought, when few moments of my own are without you.

 

The crow ignites the morning showing two lights of sun's dawn and moons dusk, ripe fruit on the vine lets not waste any time.

 

in these moments without you

 

 

Impressionism of Expressionism

Expressing lost spaces.

Contracting shadows of art to entertain our idol times. Like winds of old, glancing your bare neck whispering without tempo.

The violin cries like a frightened soul, of death's true nada, life no more.

Memorizing your dance when John Lennon was killed, on stage off to the tables.

With all qualities, in different quantities in separate combinations you each are very alike of unique hues of tone to each observer their own.

You met another, her story you found, her nothing no more in march. Finding her castle to fill with comfort, chatter and love.

Your laugh isn't old enough to forget, nor your face or hug. You were always so young, so in demand.

Another friend lead the way, for him life was famous. Big Jim in song, birthday bashes in July, light man for the stars you were his groovy groupie.

Three best friends, gone long enough today to remember they may have became brand new in forty seven days, again.

 

 

never more, only me listening to Strauss

 

 

Full of heart shaped boxes

purpose was not to fullfill themselves but for you to fill with joys, gems and treasures of your own heart, not of mine.