disability, Mental health, Poetry

The Unnamed.

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This is a prayer for the mystery case

The pain with no clear cause
The symptoms that don’t match
The lab test that comes back clear

The numbers say you’re fit as a fiddle
So why is your body screaming
As you beg the white coats to care

This is a prayer for the ones unsure
If they deserve to belong here
Disabled. As if it’s a title you earn

This is for the ones who have a hard time
defending themselves against the “just”s
Because maybe this one will be right

And it’s less hope and more desperation
As you swipe your card and try it.
You’re running out of time

You’re running out of your mind
Trying to figure out how to survive
In a new normal each day

And when people ask, you say sure!
Because it still doesn’t occur to you
You’ll be gritting your teeth the day of the event.

But you don’t have a name yet
Or ever. Maybe. Maybe you won’t know
What to tell people when you say sorry

And they don’t understand fully
Because yesterday you seemed fine
And it’s hard to describe what you feel

The symptom list inconclusive
Is hard to describe without
A name for what’s within

This is a prayer for our minds and hearts
and stomachs as they churn
with grief and anxiety and fear

For the choices we make with no guidance
For the questions with no answers
For the mystery that leaves us without

Community. Support. Resources. Research. Plans. Treatment. Hope.

I pray you find a doctor with undying curiosity
I pray you find empathy in a nurse’s needle
I pray you find a treatment that works

I pray your insurance covers you with no fuss
Like a blanket on a soft couch
With all you need within reach.

I pray you hang on to tomorrow
Breathe in and out, do what you can,
And in time you find a name.

faith, Poetry

The Remodel

Photo by Kelly L on Pexels.com

Deconstruction not as in Derrida

But baseboards pulled gently,

Carefully, finished by small hands

Decades long past



Cabinet doors stacked on the floor

You never know what you’ll reuse

Standing back, hands on hips

Deep in imagining


Burn the shoebox of him

and loss and the road not taken

Except the teddy bear

You place to the side.


 

Fill up the bags of clothes and sheets

Cry as you pull in to the shelter

Hand over the memories

Hoping it will help 


a fresh start

To begin

That’s what we need

To tear it all down and click Refresh

Deconstruct every assumption

The sofa’s never been over there

What if we let some light in

Build a shelf for the keepsakes


Some porcelain smashed and an exhale

Some wrapped to store away

No longer on display

But part of you all the same


Grateful for what brought you here

But not caged by it

Hammers to demolish

and to drive the tiny nail


20-odd years and it’s time for change

Ideas and patterns

The fabric that holds you,

Shades in the colors of life


Each brick and paving stone 

Handled one by one

Reconsidered and examined

To determine its place


What if, what could be

What has been here all this time

And you didn’t even know it

Growing resilient new life


Who would have thought

Destruction could be this

This beautiful, this curious, 

This wonder-full

After, when you’re covered in sheetrock

And you’ve cried it out 

And the tarps cover the floor

It begins. Hope.

Stand up from the bathroom floor

And you see it in the reflection

What if… What if that were there

Pieces fall into place


One day, home looks familiar again

Different, so much different

But more you, somehow, 

More who you’ve always been.

You’ve become. 

Now that it’s in motion, unraveled

It keeps going

Evolving


Deconstructing and reconstructing

Not as in podiums and dusty studied texts

But as a heart pumps blood,

As the soul beckons you home. 

faith, Poetry

Welcome home

Welcome, welcome to the wandering
I was once welcomed
And here you are too

Take a tea or a coffee.
There is no brochure
You’ve left rulebooks behind

It’s the wilderness, yes,
And it feels so alone
But look around! There’s a caravan

Wagons and timbrels
The young and the wise
We’re all growing

Welcome, you’re welcome
Don’t be ashamed
It’s never too late or too early

You’re not behind
There’s no supply list
No one leader or route.

You’ll wander awhile
Take your time
You’ll settle in, no rush.

One day you will welcome
One day you’ll be the guide
But we’re all just evolving

Take out your tools
Get down to the bones
Clean out and start anew

Remember it’s yours
Not anyone else’s
Only you know what to be

It’s not the destination
Or a linear line
There is no success or perfection

Holiness wanders
Righteousness blooms
Hunger and thirst are rewarded

Belonging comes in
When you least expect it
Exploration through yeses and noes

Find your path
Find yourself
Find freedom out here

The wilderness
welcomes you
home.

aromanticism, Poetry, queer

I heal myself

She needs him
Like she needs air
He needs her
Like water

But I breathe
I drink, I gasp
I drown
All on my own

She soothes her hands
through her hair
She kisses her
Soft and gentle

But I tighten my jaw
And say I’m fine
Because I will be
I am my own

He brings them soup
And pills and tea
They relax into him
He is there

But I will my way
To the shelf
I pour and heat
and brew alone

I choose myself
I chose alone
But I didn’t choose
To be made this way

I can’t pretend
I don’t wish
For you
To see
Me.

Written for Aroventures: AAA Literary Journal: Aromantic Awareness Week 2021.

asexuality, Poetry, queer

Dangerous

Call me dangerous

Call me wayward

I’m not sorry

for my honesty

/

I am queerly a woman 

And I was born set to bold

A persistent problem

To your systems and theology

/

I will not be quiet 

Call me threat, call me fire

Let’s burn it down

Call me hurricane 

/

I am hurricane

I will blow fear away

Rain down justice

Waters holy

/

We fought too hard 

To play power games

There’s too much at stake

To stay silent in grey

/

So call me dangerous

Call me violent

Rainbow light

I split skies wider.