By Reanna – One Inky Queer
This poem was commissioned by Disability Arts Online.
knew to ask the world for what I needed as a baby I think
and didn’t know to be grateful
then lost the asking skill along the way
maybe after my part of the world stopped listening
started asking again illness forced
couldn’t get the words out
could scarcely form the thought
need kept pushing though so I asked
the first time
no one heard I was tolerated with quiet sniping a ghost in that house
I heard me
perceived weakness
stung like bees
pain biting I asked
a second time
disabled friends heaven sent a label I could not own yet
listened above the deafening clamour of shrugging doctors
advice
signs
hope
shared precious capacity
given freely
I was so grateful
so ashamed
sometimes migraines stole my asking ability
away on an aphasic wave
partners noticed if they were there
rescues much needed from “normal” social spaces
other times I cowered alone on toilet floors
only noticed when I wasn’t doing my job
words recovered I asked more urgently
a third time
attack afeared career hanging
in
the
balance
meetings
token gestures
colleague bullying ignored
guilt-tripping
for small concessions
for every sick day
and they waited waited waited
drying me
on
the
line
until I had enough gave up and left
fine then!
I’d had it with asking
self-employed I’d rely on
no one but me
they’d see! was always independent
cue 14 hour days
2 jobs
in 5 different places
hours on transport and delays
cue more sick days
except now they’re unpaid
still wheedling agents complained
tutee families understood
at least
as I got sicker
sicker
sicker
downward spiral
no energy
so didn’t eat
or the shop went hungry
the kitchen ‘cause I
couldn’t reach
about this I kept my mouth shut mostly
at least visited by a blooming distant
love so I was happy exhausted
happy exhausted
happy exhausted
desperate I asked
a final / first time
and was heard
moved in with them
their parents helped
their cooking care
proportional rent
charities aided benefits
all these things at their stations meant
time and space to breathe I could take care of me ask less
be more
I still ask
on occasion
each time greeted with
help received guiltily
or reluctant acceptance
or infuriating ignorance
or bullying and ableism
or self-assurance I’m worth asking for
tell me are you grateful?
as you rise from your bed
when lights don’t pierce your head
are you grateful every single time?
if not do you still expect mine?
I’m not saying that I’m not grateful I’m just asking
In the last year, Reanna has been published in Joyful Noise, Aghh zine and been commissioned by Disability Arts Online, for whom they also blog poetic essays. They have performed at Hammer & Tongue, Words by the Water, Horseplay, Pier Poetry, The Actors and Rebel Soapbox. They also co-host a regular queer and trans poetry group @PoetryMeetQT.
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