The Monster Poem Cycle: #3 of 4 (at least -- more likely 5)

[capri0mni]

Has it really been over a month since I last posted for this mini, two person, meme? Eeep! I've not given up on it. Really, here's proof:


THE MONSTER CHALLENGES THE BORDER

You stand there, with my file in your hand:
A long white coat beneath fluorescent light.
Your voice is measured, your expression, bland
To thinly veil the arrogance of Might.
With scientific words, you speak your part;
Your glance betrays a superstitious heart.

As though I were not even in the room
(And near enough to catch stale coffee breath),
You lay out (for my mother) all the doom
Of raising such a daughter so bereft.

For I will never walk as humans can:
Upon two legs, and tall, across the Earth.
With crutch tips as my hooves, I'll cross each span
In trotting gait, because of star-crossed birth.

With practiced stroke and swiftly moving pen
(Just as you've done with other children's lives),
You mark me down as something less than "Man."
To fit me to a list that you've contrived.

You circumscribe my life in dark blue ink.
My flesh and mind are mapped (or so you think).


THE MONSTER CHALLENGES YOUR CATEGORIES

The day is warm, the playful breeze is light;
The sun (just like a lover at the gate)
Has called the flowers out -- and you, as well --
So even mundane tasks are pleasant things.

And then, you see the shadow in the crowd:
A monster in the corner of your eye.

An insult made of flesh and bone -- obscene!
Worse than any word or gesture, this:
Audacity in daring to exist:
Denying everything you've learned to know.

And you are Good. You've learned what elders taught.
About what makes a Man, and makes a Beast,
And how to tell an Adult from a Child,
And how to keep your own place in the world.

The monster in the crowd is gone, although....
The shadow that it cast? It lingers, still:
It's lodged there, in the corner of your thoughts --
A seed that's far too dangerous to sprout.

But you are Good. You take this as a test,
Enclose what's Wrong in pity, and move on.

And finally (for now), poem #3 (\o/):

THE MONSTERS' ANXIETY

"The Campus Registry for 'Special Needs'"
(Protected from the mainstream's quickened pace):
We're gathered here like flotsom in the weeds
United, simply, by coming to this place.
As different from each other as from those
Who tell us where to sign, and where to go.

Some Deaf, some blind, "mobility impaired" --
No two needs the same for getting by.
We know the pain, and try hard not to stare
But in the face of Difference, we are shy.
We know that we are lucky to be here,
And neither locked away, nor even dead.
And yet, in spite of Love, we still have Fear:
The knowledge: "I'm a monster" in our heads.
For we, as well, have learned what elders taught
About what makes a Man, and makes a Beast,
And our identities, in Limbo caught --
Put us on shaky ground, to say the least.
But we are here, and will be here again --
Perhaps becoming allies -- even friends.

-------------
(I'd decidedly "Meh..." about the closing couplet -- it's bordering on the too-cozy-sentimental. But I can't think of any better conclusion at the moment)

For now: Dinner Time!

Comments

[spiralsheep]

I especially appreciate this:

We know that we are lucky to be here,
And neither locked away, nor even dead.
And yet, in spite of Love, we still have Fear:
The knowledge: "I'm a monster" in our heads.

♥

My 4 and 5 here (if you want to have at the punctuation of 5 then feel free cos I'm aware it needs something):

http://spiralsheep.dreamwidth.org/389719.html

[capri0mni]

*nod-nod* 'Cause that's the crux, ain't it, BB? The very fact that we are applying for "Special Services," (especially in a college setting) is proof that our families have supported us, and believe it's worth it to invest in our education, and yet, and yet... the very fact that we have to apply (And it's always been in some side hall, "out of the way" of the main flow traffic), continually underscores that we are perpetually "Other."

BTW, it was that preamble that was getting me stuck in sad: feeling the same unease when meeting people of other disabilities for the first time that the "Normies" feel with me, and recognizing that I've thoroughly internalized the ableism...

And seeing it repeated through the Internet, 20+ years later...

Off to have a go at your #5

[smw]

There's a lovely sense of place in these. This:

The day is warm, the playful breeze is light;
The sun (just like a lover at the gate)
Has called the flowers out -- and you, as well --
So even mundane tasks are pleasant things.

Works subtly for me as a reminder of a shared world, regardless of what the narrator knows.

[capri0mni]

^_^

That's my favorite of all the quatrains I've written in this series (so far).

In my head, the Narrator of the poem knows that all things are connected, and equally alive. It's the "You" whom the narrator is addressing who is walking around with the blinders of education on.

At first, I tried to write this in the first-person P.O.V. of the disabled "Monster" (as I did in the first poem):

Out on a pleasant day, doing the things of everyday life, and then, suddenly, feeling the icy chill of another person's bigoted stare.

But ...

That was just too violent, and would more than likely shut a reader out. So I turned it around.

[bookgirlwa]

I don't have the words to say how much these poems mean to me.

[capri0mni]

*hugs*