Posted in crossroads, Developmental disability, Developmental disability service system, disability rights, from the bone, Self-advocacy

Crossroads #01 (Self-Advocacy Sunday)

A walkway leads out into a desert within pink sand, with a sign with arrows pointing both directions sideways. Letters matching the pink sand read "Crossroads."
Crossroads in the California desert.

Dear Cheryl,

There is a lonely crossroad
Somewhere between here and nowhere

Where the crows wheel in circles
And call to each other
In their hidden language
But never talk to us
And never land

Where the light is always twilight
Though it range from purple to blue
And sometimes a murky greyish tan

Where a paved road with wheelchair access
Meets a dirt footpath without
Where the Country of Ideas
Borders the Country of Resonant Bones

And it is that borderland
And that crossroads
Where we must meet
We must both translate
We must both learn to listen in a foreign tongue

And as speaking to the dead
Is no problem
In this land outside of time
I have no fear
That you will stand me up
For this strange date

You’ll be too curious
You’ll begin to feel
A strange resonant song
In that part of your bones
Where your body anchors your soul
And you won’t be able to help dancing
To the tune
That already haunts your twilight dreams

So come to the crossroads of Bones and Ideas
You’ll find me there
Awaiting you
As long as it takes

Spoken from the bone,
Mel

Author:

Hufflepuff. Came from the redwoods, which tell me who I am and where I belong in the world. I relate to objects as if they are alive, but as things with identities and properties all of their own, not as something human-like. Culturally I'm from a California Okie background. Crochet or otherwise create constantly, write poetry and paint when I can. Proud member of the developmental disability self-advocacy movement. I care a lot more about being a human being than I care about what categories I fit into.

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