You’re overcast again,
a nearly perennial state,
but I have a colourful umbrella
for contingencies,
and I’m safe from sunburn.
Blue sky is beautiful, of course,
but the texture of tangled
shades of grey offering drama
has some appeal,
in small doses, at least.
Star speckled sky,
orbs orbiting,
motes in the sun beams,
circles circling,
dots on the shoes.
The most beautiful things in the world are round,
so I will celebrate my celestial shape.
Oh, I know the row you hoe
is dreary and full of woe!
or so you are inclined to think
but we are not defined by your narrow ink
We see you fear to be seen as less
You shout. you rave, you wave distress
It’s not about what we do, dear,
We are not the problem here.
We watch serene, your freak out scene.
We see your strengths, your skills, your care.
We know you’re kind and very fair.
You’re really great. Don’t be irate!
You perceive attacks where there are none.
There’s no one talking at your back.
You do not seek to clarify,
Oh, my, how you leap to conclusions
Each based simply on illusions.
I know perception makes reality
but I encourage you to find serenity
Ultimately, you can not be
great when you can’t see what true,
and when people are contentedly accepting you.
Hovered over the computer
you groan about how you’ve been screwed up
by school schedules that don’t let you take
the courses you need to graduate.
Something from grade nine,
another from grade ten,
a couple from grade eleven,
how can you fit it in twelve?
School’s fault.
Not your fault, of course.
Never your fault
for not coming to class,
for not doing your work,
for not taking advantage of offers to help
for not being respectful of your peers
for not accepting support,
for not passing the courses.
One or two (or three or four)
missed credits each year.
It’s the school’s fault.
Of course, it is.
Everything is hard for you.
Why?
Why?
Why?
You strike the question,
a damning indictment.
I will tell you,
though you won’t hear:
This is why:
Because you don’t see that
you choose.
You choose
to work.
You choose
to fail.
You choose.
Until you choose
to be responsible
for every choice,
to admit you failed because you chose
not to work,
not to accept help,
not to accept the consequences of
your choices,
life will always
seem unfair.
It’s not life that’s unfair.
It’s you who is refusing
to own your reality.
Accept responsibility for yourself.
What are you afraid of?
Be!
I am offended by this object.
In my messy,
but perfectly coordinated, kitchen
you have filled the clear soap dispenser
with acid yellow dish detergent,
instead of clear or white
as is the aesthetic choice.
It glares at me:
caution colour
screaming incongruity.
It hurts my eyes;
it seers my sensibility.
But you are proud
of your helpfulness,
and this is your house, too.
Perhaps if I squint,
it will be invisible?
.
.
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This piece works with the theme SHARING SPACE on today’s http://www.shawnbird.com/poetic-diversity-project
Please consider sharing a poem or a link on this theme and help me with my grad school course!
You stand silently apart
You hover on the edges
distinct
observant
I mingle like sugar in water
wondering
wishing
longing
to draw you
into my arms
to hold you
to anchor you.
But you don’t know where
those hands have been.
You seek a quiet place
to find a peaceful oasis
for the discomfort of that skin
for the ramble of those thoughts
for the torture of that crowd
I stand apart
and watch you pull yourself
in pieces
I’m laughing and chatting
and wishing I could be enough
to give you courage
strength
faith in yourself,
but I’m not.
No matter how much
my heart is full to bursting
with wanting it.
You have to be
enough
alone.
Once upon a time, on this day in history a few days after I turned 13, I had a life changing conversation with a friend. He shared with me a short story he’d found called “Masks.” It was profound and the resulting conversation about honesty and being true to yourself left me in a cloud.
In fact, when I got home, people were afraid there had been a lot more than conversation going on, since I was so dazed and blissful.
I don’t remember the details of the story anymore, and I don’t remember the conversation either. What I remember is the attachment that came from listening and being heard. I remember the comfort of someone I admired spending time with me. I remember the sense of connection, fondness, and adoration.
It was still resonating enough at my graduation that 716 was the number on my grad t-shirt.
It still resonates enough that I’m writing this blog about it decades later.
So Happy Masks Anniversary. May you live your life unafraid to be yourself and to accept others as themselves. May you speak words of honesty with warmth. May you be the kind of person who draws others to your sincerity and good humour. May you be an inspiration that echoes through the decades.
.
.
PS. If you know the story “Masks,” which was apparently from a youth writing anthology published in the late 70s, I’d appreciate knowing about it. I would love to read it again.
Shawn L. Bird 
this letter is purple September 14, 2011
Tags: acceptance, BC, education, gender, homosexuality, identity, inclusion, postaday2011, purple letter campaign, Ryan Clayton, schools, trans-gender
Every one of my students is special and unique.
I don’t care if they’re white, black, green or purple.
I don’t care if they are drama kids, jocks, or computer nerds.
I don’t care if they are tattoed, pierced, or sport virgin skin.
I don’t care if they are rich or poor.
I don’t care who they want to have sex with.
I don’t want any of my students to feel hopeless and alone because of gender identity or sexual orientation .
I care that my students feel valued and safe.
I care that they can get information they need to live healthy and happy lives.
I care that they have role models who can show them how to behave respectfully, amid individual differences.
I care that they know their biology is not a crime or a sin.
I care that they know that they are worthy of acceptance and respect.
I care that they leave school and lead productive lives full of love and friendship.
I want each of them to choose life.
I support the purple letter campaign to adopt a provincial policy of inclusion and acceptance in our schools.
Our kids are worth it.
All of them.
.
PS. I’m proud of my former student, Ryan Clayton. He does amazing work to raise issues of sexuality in our province. He makes a difference for students who need the message of acceptance that he brings to them. For some, it is a matter of life and death. Thanks, Ryan!
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