Posted on October 01, 2006 at 05:55 AM
By Gregory Banks.
Literally translated, I think it says "Imperfect bone growth." But what else does it say?
Does it tell you my name? Does it give you insight into the life I’ve led? Can you define the nature of a person by the affliction he has? People look at you from afar, and sometimes very near, and focus their attention upon you as if your ailments are blindness and stupidity instead. They gawk and point, their blatant mannerisms and their subdued words issued on whispering lips screaming "Look at the freak!" at the top of voiceless lungs. It doesn’t matter to them whether you’re healthy and happy, loving and kind. Your body’s short, your chest a barrel, your bones like ancient china too delicate to touch. In their eyes you’re an oddity, a living, breathing museum piece right out of "Ripley’s Believe It Or Not."
But you are human, actual and whole. You remind yourself that you came into this world like any other child. Love is your purpose. Living is your right. You should be defined not by others, but by how you live life. You take and you give, you fall and then you rise. You appreciate the world with all encompassing eyes. But in the still of the night, as you lie quiet and alone, the very weight of Creation aches deep within your bones. Although you deny it, you know it to be true. Like Pinocchio, the desire to be "real" is ever part of you.
Thank you Gregory for your words.