Saturday, January 16, 2021

Permanently Inconvenienced

No one is saved. Sometimes,
We find we’ve been reprieved.
All children always sound

Like tiny prophets—caught
In sentience that knows
It will know more someday

But for now must pretend—
Not since pretense is fun—
Since prophets and children

Have no other choice but
Silence, and they don’t want
To keep being silent.

Karen disliked being
Labeled as handicapped
Wanting permanently

Inconvenienced instead.
Good for her. She’s gone now.
I read all about her

As a handicapped kid
Who thought the term
Ugly and ungraceful

Myself, only to find
Disabled was up next.
Labels arrive like death

That way—we can argue
For our preferences, but
The terms move though a world

Larger than us, a world
Of their own, and prophets
Though we were as children,

There’s no rescuing us—
Brief reprieves, permanent
Inconveniences. Breathe.

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