Feathers fully covered in ashes ruffle in the wind.
No sackcloth. Black, as crisp as a clear night. Almost
 
like my blood browned, once cream dress, tattered and torn,
aged eroding by the elements...only darker.
 
What happened that you use only one foot
to hobble on, instead of walking straight on two?
 
Why couldn’t He have given me wings
to soar, like you do, like all birds do?
 
Deep bottom of the sea eyes, glistening darkness—
a moonlightless night with dancing shadows.
 
You don’t seem to care that you can’t walk
well, with your chest proud, preaching perching on the branch above me.
 
I didn’t think it mattered much that I cannot walk, until
I crash landed, living rooted under this tree, day and night.
 
What do you think of us living outcasted outside—
as you circle the dry dust swirling between us?
 
Dagger claws that could rip my eyes
out...at least one of us would eat.
 
Couldn’t your ancestor find an olive leaf for Noah?
Where did he go when the water dried up from the earth?
 
Cah cah cries.
Do you even know that
 
you and your kind
are unclean? Unclean.
 
Why would He make us—the unclean?
 
 
 
* According to Blu Greenberg (author of On Women and Judaism: A View from Tradition and How to Run a Traditional Jewish Household), traditional Jewish views of “uncleanness” are misinterpreted and are better understood as purity laws and rituals. Jodi Magness explains in “Jesus and His Jewish Influences” (a 2015 Great Courses Audio series) that people in Jesus’ time were for the most part in continual uncleanness, except for priests during their temple stays. However, Searching for Kadesh examines uncleanness more from the context of exclusion and as a literary device.
e found success as a blogger for a spinal cord injury non-profit and her Gimpy Law blog's global readership reached 1,550 yearly views on disability issues and promoting disability awareness. e is a recovering social justice attorney wannabe with a disability affecting her speech and mobility, but not her spirit.