Oh how you’ve come around.
The more days and years I wheel through this world, the more relevant you are.
We’ve become close. I know you so well, and yet not at all.
Paradox, you are what is past, present and future.
To love so deeply // to grief so deeply
To be the oppressor // to be the oppressed
To feel narrowness // to feel spaciousness
To know so much // to know so little
To be seen as a woman // to not be a woman
To be visibly disabled // to be invisibly disabled
To be Disabled in joy and connection // to be Disabled in pain and isolation
To not be the one who made me ashamed // to be the one who can make me proud*
You are the opposing truths that happen simultaneously.
Paradox, the more I wake, the more I wake up to your inevitability. You are here, not going anywhere, anytime soon.
More people will die and more people will be born–close beloveds // faraway strangers.
Bodies and lives intrinsically tied to histories and presents of violence and oppression // to loving dreams and possibilities of liberation.
Paradox, you help me hold the both/and. I welcome you. I hold you close.
Welcoming you allows me to learn what is working and what is not.
Listening to you means I am moving closer to what is more freeing and loving.
Embracing you means I am practicing living into the wholeness and messiness of my humanity.
Paradox, thanks for helping light my way–and for obscuring it, too.
*This line pays homage to disabled poet Laura Hershey’s piece “You Get Proud By Practicing”