to the stranger staring at my arm in the grocery line.
an ode to all of the uncomfortable, frustrating and sometimes funny daily encounters that we, as disabled people, experience...
to the stranger staring at my arm in the grocery line
to the message that sits in my DMs: You’re pretty for someone with one hand
to the man on the boardwalk that grabs my arm I’ll pray for you
to the whisper in my college bar (So, what else can that robotic arm do?)
my body is not for you
it’s for the head to foot icy jolt that shoots through me, jumping into Kaaterskill Falls
it’s for bones that buzz for the rest of the day, even after drying off and bundling up
it’s for shoulders burning under the sun after insisting it’s only been an hour! I really don’t need to re-apply.
it’s for lying with intertwined legs on the couch on Sunday mornings
it’s for going to bed with aching, calloused feet, indicators of a day well spent
it’s for sweating in the heat and dancing on sticky floors
it’s for the warmth of summer and the salty sea
it’s for running slow and walking fast
my body is not for you
it’s not for your pity, your inspiration, your propositions, or your beacon of hope
it is for ordinary joy, for trust, for connecting and for attempting
it is not your answer; it is my question
Beautifully said!
A M A Z I N G