Shall I Tell You?

Shall I tell you I am disabled? 
That I no longer can fend for
myself? Or shall I tell you 
I now write the poetry you 
mocked me for because 
it does not pay the bills? 

I’d rather spit sun blaze  
into your perfidious eye,
open my onyx robe,expose 
the rawness of my words
and show you exactly the way,
as Robin Williams said, they, 
and ideas, can change the world. 
And while I cannot control how
it all operates—the minute details

of process, decision making, law,
and treachery—I can tell you this:
inside me has turned to oyster shell.
Layer over layer, cemented by sea
and salt. And when you find me 
one morning, laying haphazardly 
in the sand, you will see my colors, 
their gleam and shine and irony— 
and you will not think disability.  

Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt, copyright March 27, 2024, all rights reserved