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.
what will these strangers think
when they hear the word ‘epilepsy’
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?
only one other was present
My poem was read with no reaction
Are all these questions phantom worries?
Are they realities for some?
it’s not all about me.
Acceptance of
myself and
how others feel
tempers phantom worries.
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