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Monday, March 17, 2014

I Was Going to Speak

I was going to speak tonight
to read aloud to strangers
read aloud a poem penned 
about memories of epilepsy

I wondered ~
what will these strangers think
when they hear the word ‘epilepsy’

will fear bubble beneath polite surfaces, stir violent images?
will curiosity ripple about what this condition?
will sympathy push meaning aside?
will the narrow laser of judgment excise humanity from my soul?
will understanding accept without knowing?

Fortunately my worries were in vain ~
only one other was present 
My poem was read with no reaction
Are all these questions phantom worries?
Are they realities for some?

Understanding goes two ways
it’s not all about me.

Acceptance of 
    myself and 
        how others feel 
tempers phantom worries.

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