Sunday, February 13, 2011

trying my hand at poety

Trigger warning: The last two verses (after the jump) mention the death/murder of people with disabilities. It's not explicit, I think. But everyone has their own comfort levels.

I am not invisible

I am not invisible
this may be obvious as I stand here
all 5'4" of me
feisty with anger
Or meek with the submission I learned to adopt
(and relearned with my disability)

"Invisible disability"
Invisible to whom?
I am not invisible to me

My forced breathing
my eyes clenched tight in pain
The tight way I hold my body to try to stop the waves
the twitches
the sometimes spasms
the way I can't move my head much

This is not invisible to me

It used to be that
the idea of disability didn't even cross my mind

"my laziness"
"my weakness"
"my failures"
Were not invisible to me

Disableism was a word I might have heard one
let alone see it happening to me
(but hey,
what can I say -- even microsoft word doesn't think it's a word)

And then I tripped into disability theory
a lucky stumble

It was clumsy
It was confusing

But it was a possible light
A possible community
A possible pride
(Although I was no where ready to even consider that yet)

"Someone, somewhere might
think i am.... disabled" I realized



I kept reading
And suddenly I was angry
It made more and more sense

So very

Because I'm forgotten
I'm 'invisible"

But it's not just me

It's like that "joke"
Which isn't a joke because it happens all the time

"I don't need to build a ramp for my store
there are no wheelchair users who ever come here"

Well how the fuck did you expect them to get in?!

I stood memorial for our dead last month
My dead
My community's dead

But no one had trained me how to mourn this
If we just forget, no one mourns
No one knows
know one knows how to mourn

Unsure what to do
What's the proper thing to do
to say
when "my" society hates people with disabilities so much that they are murdered

(c) Copyright (Also, this isn't a great poem, why would you steal it anyway?)