Disability Mirror

 

 

Nanao Sakaki, the great Japanese Zen poet said “break the mirror”—for its reflections are  not us. Out here, where the soul has no footsteps I stand dis-mirrored. I may relapse during the day, seeing myself as others will, but not just now. Blind guy before the bathroom vanity…

 

I can’t see much and certainly mirrors evade me, but I know this slick glass is the place of both articulation and despair. I also know its immodest tone for reflections are speech and mostly barbarous. Petit mal, little stains, blotching, one eye wandering like grackle, all eternity’s offense is there. And worse with disability. Worse because you’ll be tricked into the peculiar discipline of looking good for the able bodied—what they call in disability studies “the super crip”—half poster child, half fucking Batman. What’s in your reflection? Overcoming. Inspiration porn. Slum dog vanity. Time for a Zen mirror break. 

 

How small it is, the mirror. Thanks be to God, it gets smaller the more I “look”. 

 

Break the Mirror

In the morning
After taking cold shower
—what a mistake—
I look at the mirror.

There, a funny guy,
Grey hair, white beard, wrinkled skin,
—what a pity—
Poor, dirty, old man,
He is not me, absolutely not.

Land and life
Fishing in the ocean
Sleeping in the desert with stars
Building a shelter in the mountains
Farming the ancient way
Singing with coyotes
Singing against nuclear war–
I’ll never be tired of life.
Now I’m seventeen years old,
Very charming young man.

I sit quietly in lotus position,
Meditating, meditating for nothing.
Suddenly a voice comes to me:
“To stay young,
To save the world,
Break the mirror.”