National Poetry Month: Disability Style, Part 1

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Because we’ve got talent, folks!

Disabled Country by Neil Marcus

If there was a country called disabled,
I would be from there.
I live disabled culture, eat disabled food,
make disabled love, cry disabled tears,
climb disabled mountains and tell disabled stories.

If there was a country called disabled,
I would say she has immigrants that come to her
From as far back as time remembers.

If there was a country called disabled,
Then I am one of its citizens.
I came there at age 8. I tried to leave.
Was encouraged by doctors to leave.
I tried to surgically remove myself from disabled country
but found myself, in the end, staying and living there.

If there was a country called disabled,
I would always have to remind myself that I came from there.
I often want to forget.
I would have to remember…to remember.

In my life’s journey
I am making myself
At home in my country.

Leah Lakshmi Piepzna Samarasinha

Leah’s website

Cheryl Marie Wade

I Am Not One of The

By Cheryl Marie Wade

I am not one of the physically challenged —

I’m a sock in the eye with gnarled fist
I’m a French kiss with a cleft tongue
I’m orthopedic shoes sewn on a last of your fears

I am not one of the differently abled —

I’m an epitaph for a million imperfect babies left untreated
I’m an ikon carved from bones in a mass grave at Tiergarten, Germany
I’m withered legs hidden with a blanket
I am not one of the able disabled —
I’m a black panther with green eyes and scars like a picket fence
I’m pink lace panties teasing a stub of milk white thigh
I’m the Evil Eye

I’m the first cell divided
I’m mud that talks
I’m Eve I’m Kali
I’m the Mountain That Never Moves
I’ve been forever I’ll be here forever
I’m the Gimp
I’m the Cripple
I’m the Crazy Lady

I’m the Woman With Juice

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