Inclusion: the action or state of including
or being included within a group or structure
Solution: a means of solving a problem or
dealing with a difficult situation
Now, is ‘inclusion’ the ‘solution’?
Is confiding not always in yourself,
but being able to confide in people you trust:
not an impeccably simple way to solve complications?
Some people that dwell in isolation
succumb to despondency and desolation
wrap themselves in a costume of facades.
Inclusion eradicates these issues.
We as humans
want answers to our questions,
resolutions to our complications;
a myriad of different perspectives
can quickly enlighten and open the eyes
of those who truly seek a solution.
Solution to what?
Solutions to those “impossible questions”,
Solutions to those “exasperating situations” we can’t seem to get out,
Solutions to those “family troubles”
those “social problems”.
Inclusion is no secret,
it’s the biggest weapon we as people have.
Inclusion gives all of its users the power
Inclusion is power,
the real wealth beneath our skins.
we have the solution.
Wednesdays and Fridays:
The only days I jump out of bed
I walk into the classroom,
Trade my sadness for a dose of jubilance.
I feel alive again.
A dozen 3 year olds swarm the room,
the melting pot.
Labels such as: typical, Downs syndrome, autistic, deaf
Come together to morph into a magical classroom.
“The Tree House Room”.
Differences are not feared in the eyes of these little humans,
These are the days I live for.
The changing guests, each in a different mood,
Sit at the roadside table and arise:
And every life among them in likewise
Is a soul’s board set daily with new food.
What man has bent o’er his son’s sleep, to brood
How that face shall watch his when cold it lies?—
Or thought, as his own mother kissed his eyes,
Of what her kiss was when his father wooed?
May not this ancient room thou sit’st in dwell
In separate living souls for joy or pain?
Nay, all its corners may be painted plain
Where Heaven shows pictures of some life spent well;
And may be stamped, a memory all in vain,
Upon the sight of lidless eyes in Hell.
A cat stalks amongst stalks;
monkeys like old men, fingers unpick
your banana hands, curious and careful.
Too much expression.
Don’t worry, have a curry.
And from a coach window glimpses of a land
where a skeleton boy sleeps or lies dead under palm.
And the red earth chokes.
Follow the waterfall to mango pickle
down river to a jungle boogie rhythm
you ain’t ever heard before.
Cobra skins and coy carp,
the sound of cicadas amasses.
A stand still in traffic, its ‘crush’ hour
its okay to beep even if it will never get you anywhere.
A treasure trove of trinkets, a myriad of jewels.
All you see is money,
all I see is you wanting money.
Dusty rags from sandy bags, the face of
desperation is ugly.
Temples carved into caves
as markets coloured like an artist’s palette.
An elephant’s eyes say more than this poem could.
Father went into the world and shared himself,
raised by the good book, by hook or crook,
took on the task to help another in need.
Not an unkind word was spoken of him,
no doubt, no question was made of his measure.
his voice was treasured, love was his creed.
Came from that nostalgic, older form of magic,
where a man's vow held potency and allowed
luxury of trust; countenance considered currency.
In a time with no words or name for outcast,
he embraced the tragically lost, those who by fate
were allotted the role of alien, or other.
I was a Charleston boy, born and raised,
so I know folks would sometimes whisper,
not all grand deeds were praised, or welcome.
He'd hide it from me, but I knew that it hurt.
His dazed heart would stumble, and falter.
But he'd soldier on, then walk on water.
I asked once what drove him to these ends.
Answered me as I always knew he would,
tapped his nose, grinned, and simply said,
"to do good."