And it was her disability that made her whole

“Black disabled women have always been the blueprint. Our survival is activism. Our thriving is revolutionary.” - Imani Barbarin

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---

without warning
she arrives
to once again
declare that I am
forever changed

she is a visceral pain
that runs deep
through my legs
tingling sensations
pricks at the bottom
of my feet
Is it the knowing that
I will never walk
quite the same way again?
is it the learning that
control of my body is
no longer completely mine
Relief may come only at the mercy
of how I confront my feelings,
and reflect on my faults.

What is this word
they use to define
humans like me
who move differently
where language tells us that
we are abnormal
defective
that we are not whole

I will not have you
view me as other
when I am just another
you want to call disabled
and make invisible
I am uniquely
closer to my body than
most will ever be
maybe you will never be

I am elevating
shifting beyond
exploring this gift
of metamorphosis
mourning a body
I can no longer know

while learning to embody
a person renewed
who remains a mystery
where constant battles with pain
guide how I move
through this journey
forever.

It’s been six years
and they said they can
no longer see it
The enemy that invaded
the base of my brain
posing as a white circle
bathing in a sea of ashen-gray
on shadowy pictures

She is invisible but ever present.

When I get a bit too comfortable.
and forget the stampede
that crushed my nerves years ago
My legs immediately falter
just to remind me
that the war
rages on

Disability,
is it that you worry
we will forget you?
how can we disremember
what we went through?
You were terrifying
Then tenacious
Never letting me lose myself
Teaching me to love myself.

We transcend together
with a knowledge
that our power
comes from the pain
and the strength
that was cultivated
to exist in 2 forms,
the before and after
slowed but never stopped
steadily moving forward.

---

It had been the fear
of the unknown
that made me claw
and crawl from the pit
begging
for this stranger
to leave my body.

But she wouldn’t.
she was here to
brandish me
in the fire of illness
and the ashes of pain

I now sit wondering
who would I have become
without the unexpected road
that has rebuilt me
into who I am now,
the disappointments
the future that I lost
when I silently,
slipped away,
and fell to the ground
only to one day
stand before you

I can see
the smile
and the grimace
that lies underneath
so many
like me
whose body
had to break and bend
to reveal its power.

Oh but how these legs
and these hips
carry on
during the most inopportune moments
to teach me a lesson
about control,
warning me that
when they are done
I must stop

They will say
It’s been too long
doing what you want
so the muscles spasm
because I didn’t listen
to their whispers
admonishing me to rest.

Praying to God fiercely
with tears streaming
into puddles underneath my nostrils
listening to me
ask Her to return to me
what was once mine

And the body
and the woman who inhabits it
both of whom are strangers
remain silent,
ashamed that I would just let them go,

forgetting the canvas
of new life
that we have painted together
the miracles we've seen,
the cliffs we didn’t see
and the valleys we climbed out of
weary but still here

I fight again,
beg and plead
to return to who I was
There is silence and
then I hear her —

My body
murmuring
“Love me.”
I turn away
ashamed of this forced rest
Sitting in white noise
pushed to admit that I am both
tarnished and beautiful,
With bones that have been weathered,
from carrying me through storms.
Entranced by watching
a body so beaten down
become so glorious.

Now I find solace
in the simplicity
of being able
to do
and move
in ways unstoppable
to my former self
and unimaginable
by my future.

I can see the edges
of my body’s strength
ebb and flow
adapting to what I need
this is how I continue to exist each day

And at some point
the pain rushes forward
but
I am no longer afraid
my body reassures me
comforts me
she morphs

once again
protecting me
pushing me
to my greater self.

This body is not broken.
She is new
A steady ship
waiting at the harbor
Unmovable
In the face of rising tides

She anchors me and
I am finally able.

---

It was in this month that I temporarily lost the ability to walk and was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis six years ago. This piece is an ode to my journey of living differently in my beautiful and disabled body.

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