RADICAL VULNERABILITY
WHEELCHAIR BURLESQUE
QUEERCRIP realities
spoken word
collective CARE
CIRCUS CABARET
INTERDEPENDENCY
INDICTMENT
for Disability Day of Mourning 2018
March 1st
I heard your names 3 times -
once as I listened to the Sydney vigil livestream,
once as I attended the New Westminster vigil,
and once as I said them aloud in my room,
alone.
I will remember
my name could have been among yours.
It very nearly was.
Our deaths are indexed by year,
100 added this year alone -
when we are killed,
we are not always counted
until a search party is sent,
tracing clues in articles
-
"the parents were so brave
to wait so long to kill him"
-
"her mother just didn't know what to do anymore -
I can't even blame her,
I'd have done the same"
-
all these excuses
indictments, were we
less of a burden
less of a hassle.
This family
of crips
and ills
and disableds
has lost so many
and we have not even been allowed
a number.
And we are still here.
In all our broken-hearted wandering,
we are still here.
In all our bone-aching loss,
we are still here.
In all our futuristic freak show,
accidental genius,
pain-staking progress -
In all our fucked up brilliance,
we
are still here.
Look at us,
surviving this apocalypse.
There will be no
abled saviour
come to pull us from our misery
only to remember, our lives
are only worth a lesson.
We
are saving ourselves.
And in our saving
we remember.
Each name
that was a life
that was not held with due care.
We remember.
Each ending,
at 3 months
or 90 years,
that was not found in its due time.
We remember.
And we swear
to continue remembering
until it could not have been us.
Until it never nearly was.