What I Want

I want to water my garden and pick raspberries

and laugh heartily with the ones I love

until my face and sides hurt,

my cheeks wet with tears of joy

and not of pain, grief, and worry for the future.

I want to run with the dog, chase after bullfrogs,

climb and jump til my lungs burn,

until my legs give way with content

and not from illness depleting me upon the lift

of a hand.

I want to knead and make and craft all day

until the candle burns low,

til my head nods along to deep sleep

and not the fitful, waking, restlessness that

now leaves me unreplenished.

I want to answer the door, the phone, the mail

to inquiries of love and care

for how I’m faring, who I am, what I’m about,

and not from those who consume me for their

own inspiration, pity, and disbelieving jollies.

I want to access and attend,

risk-mitigated, barrier-free

all the places I supposedly have rights to

but seemingly must risk my life to

just for basic food and care,

not to mention pleasure,

meanwhile with no masks and no clean air.

But I want to live and thrive

and I want that for you, too.

I want you to witness my humanity,

to uphold my right to, my desire for

survival

and well-being,

just as I’ve done and still I do

for you and yours.