by Christina Baltais
they say
“its all in our heads,”
as if that wasn’t my first thought
when I fell off
the face of the earth,
landing on my bedroom floor
unable to move.
as if the stigma of mental health,
was something we’re evading,
and this disease
is our getaway plan.
they say
we’re “against science,”
when our truest ally
stands in all the journals
they’ve never read.
while history
rolls over in its grave
and screams again,
must the denial of a disease
always preclude its discovery,
when it’s existence
has always been there.
they say
“angry patients,”
which is easier
than understanding
the roots of activism,
and how the channeled rage
of oppression,
has moved mountains of injustice
time and time again.
I wish I could patchwork
all our stories
into a quilt
to wrap around our shared pain,
offering the comfort
in knowing you are not alone.
when the only medicine
is hearing
I believe you.
over. and. over. again.
words that go a long way
because it’s miles more painful
having your reality denied,
than the loss of so much in it.
what they say will not last.
our voices will prevail,
truth always stands the test of time,
we too have showed up to move mountains.
