"Body Encounters Barrier, or Stairs (Not a Metaphor)" by Tara Hardy

In the current, secretly intentional, house / there is: cope

Support Poem-a-Day January 31, 2020   Body Encounters Barrier, or Stairs (Not a Metaphor) Tara Hardy          for CJ Rosenquist                  In the current, secretly intentional, house           there is: cope      with condition itself (cannot be underestimated). There is                  Barrier. There is encountering           Barrier. There is struggle      to negotiate Barrier, while being watched. There is kindly-meant offer                  to help (almost always           appreciated). There is kindly-meant, but      no-asking first "help" that often involves non-consensual                  touch. There is hyper-visibility     of Body           and in-visibility of person-      hood (a neat paradox conjured by inaccessibility). There                  is: don't observably feel anything,           about any piece, which equals choke      down snake of shame, muscle grown in the jungle of un-                  intentionality. There is, during all:           cheerfully, patiently, what is apparently un-      fruitfully educate, while "performing" Disability in public.   Go ten clicks, repeat. But   when the roof, walls, windows, when the floor, floorboards, foundation, when the cup of land that holds the house is love, is welcome, when the nakedly intentional shelter is access, for body, disability, and/or Black, Brown, Trans, Nonbinary, Queer, Muslim, fat, elder, child, carbon-based and breathing, valued simply for being, and never demand for government document,   there is no Barrier, no encounter of it, no being watched, only aid, consent, no shame, never blame. Visibility, right-sized, equals neighbor, not snake, repeat of this life is clean skate on frozen lake.   Imagine, the beloved who needs assistance vacuuming saliva from her mouth always has a willing hand holding hose, back-up heart, whose intention is set on weatherproof   interdependence. This is the house, the land, the world of access, of welcome, of here, you belong here.  Copyright © 2020 by Tara Hardy. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on January 31, 2020, by the Academy of American Poets.   "This poem is written in the intersectional, anti-capitalist spirit of Disability Justice in which every body is valued not just for what it can produce. It is in response to negotiating a world in which I, and other People with Disabilities, encounter barriers to access every day. It is in solidarity with a friend with whom I grieve over the ways able-bodied people lock us out." —Tara Hardy Tara Hardy's most recent book, My, My, My, My, My (Write Bloody Publishing, 2016) won a 2017 Washington State Book Award. She is faculty at Evergreen State College and lives in Seattle, Washington. My, My, My, My, My  (Write Bloody Publishing, 2016) ":: Searching for My Own Body ::" by Yesenia Montilla read more "But My Chains" by Kyle Dargan  read more Thanks to Meg Day, author of Last Psalm at Sea Level (Barrow Street, 2014), who curated Poem-a-Day for this month's weekdays. Read an extended Q&A about Day's curatorial approach and find out more about our guest editors for the year. Make a one-time contribution to help us publish Poem-a-Day.   Make your support go further by enrolling in monthly giving and joining the Mug Club! Copyright © 2020 The Academy of American Poets, All rights reserved. You are receiving this email because you opted in via our website. Our mailing address is: The Academy of American Poets 75 Maiden Lane St #901 New York, NY 10038 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.