That's what I was doing the other day when I was catching up with a friend. I played for him a poem from an artist whose work I otherwise admire. The poem in question is Rudy Francisco's "Complainers." You can watch him perform it here:
http://youtu.be/nrh1JlP8R2E
My main issue with this piece is his argument that all of our everyday tragedies could be worse so we should stop complaining about them and make the best out of what we've been given. As a person who lives with a disability, something that some may view as a tragedy, I agree that the best needs to be made out of a imperfect situation. However, I argue that acknowledging these everyday tragedies and putting them into perspective is also an essential part of the human condition. That is what inspired me to write the piece " Terms and Conditions" which you can read below:
Terms and
Conditions
After Rudy
Francisco's "Complainers"
The following are true stories:
When I was a few days old, I turned the kind of
baby blue no parent wants to see.
This rendered the connection between my brain and my limbs garbled.
Because of this when
I'm in my bed I'm staying there until someone comes to get me up through
physical strength and/or mechanical assistance.
When my nephews cry and want me to pick them up I can't.
Just because my tragedies can fit neatly in my mouth each
one eager to be counted (if you bothered to ask),
doesn't mean they are invalid.
When my youngest nephew wails like a five alarm fire, I
stretch my arms out, hoping to fill the space between his need for comfort and
my ability to provide it.
You say, "Muscle is created by lifting things that are
meant to weigh us down."
What about the weight I want to carry but my body isn't
equipped for?
I wanted my heartbeat to be his lullaby.
Instead, I let the cups of my hands overflow with his tears.
You command that I
drink from the glass because there is water in it and stop complaining but in
an emergency aren't you supposed to take care of the children first?
How can I drink first if I can't pour them a glass without
spilling it everywhere?
Don't get me wrong, my disability is magic to them:
I need to get lifted
out of bed with a machine? My older nephew thinks it's a swing and will get mad
if he's not allowed to operate it.
Toys thrown on the floor? The reacher I use to extend my
grasp becomes the Magical Arm Extender, complete with sound effects.
Multicolored drinking straws are a bouquet of spring
flowers.
The love we share doesn't have any
terms and conditions.
I know that every heartbeat is a trophy but sometimes my
heart beats heavy and the case that holds it is tarnished.
When my house built on altered hopes
and dreams the size of a child's smile burns to the ground I
won't call on you to help me salvage whatever's in the wreckage.
I know that you will think I started the fire as some sort
of disappearing act gone wrong.
Enjoy! Keep an eye on this space for more of my original work and pieces that I am inspired by.
Great piece!
ReplyDeleteJess