NOTHING HUMAN IS ALIEN ll
by C. Jenny Walbridge
Inspired by Christopher Reeve’s speech at the Democratic Convention on August 26, 1996.
The early years:
I’d known bright joy at ovation
In a classroom situation.
I’d told others how to feel,
But could I see myself?
I had tasted their ablutions;
They were simple, clear solutions.
But my problems went beyond them,
And I had to get more help.
Later:
It was time for the Convention and
I heard Christopher Reeve;
He held me in detention, standing,
Heart upon my sleeve.
He said family values meant
In a country time is spent
On each other, sister, brother—
All cared for by one another.
The man had found some loopholes
In the American Dream:
He pointed out discrepancies:
Things are not what they seem
For those with shattered lives.
And he said, We can overcome!
But ’til good heart arrives, it’s clear
The luckless are struck dumb.
Democracy’s in jeopardy—
The rich can lobby more!
Who pulls the strings? Aren’t we ashamed
If we abuse the poor?
Tonight, in writing letters,
Some quite brilliant words I found.
They help cut through the old fetters
With which my eyes were bound.
“Nothing human is alien,”
Is the phrase I mention here.
I wrote it down so many times—
It seemed to stop my fear.
I’d suffered from psychosis then.
(It’s now under control:
The drugs I take can for me make
A more collected soul.)
When Reeve spoke and he mused so well
On our good land today,
“We must help those with mental problems
Too!” I thought he’d say.
I would not put it past him, though,
To quote, on second thought,
That if we can make a difference for
An ailing mind, we ought!
For all the knocks life hands to us,
It gives us talents, too,
And virtues such as empathy
It’s good not to eschew.
The struggle to be sound of self
Is not an easy one. But
Of mind and body, health makes
Productive lives, and fun.
My own journey has taken me
Aways from whence I came:
By learning more about myself,
I’ve come to be the same,
But stronger, smarter, more aware
Of the fact that we are all
So very vulnerable to
A heart-ache or a fall
From the grace of full acceptance in
A culture that is mean,
A system that would hate its own
When they’re no longer lean
Or sprout a female chest or a
Cleft palate or are Black.
Discrimination hurts, my friend—
We’ve got to fight it back!
Nothing human is alien,
I’ve come to know it’s true.
For mentally ill I have been;
An artist too. And you?
A family is what we are,
The rich parts and the poor,
And each of us inside our heads
Must build bridges for more
Understanding—it’s what we need,
Of ourselves, and of y’all!
My therapy’s been long enough
That I can make this call:
What grander art than that which
Rests between a set of ears?
But must psychology’s concern
Be solely that of fears?
Let us create a culture where
Art therapy’s the norm:
Where each one gets a chance to make
Some line, some movement, form,
And all feel inspiration
To express their artist’s soul.
A healthy planet’s what we’d get
If we’d assume this role!
I hold just that the world’s solutions
Lie within our grasp,
Whether they be saving souls
Or fighting plagues of asp.
Liberation of our souls is
Needed. Hey! I have seen
Within myself, recovery,
And hope. Know what I dream?
A future where we utilize
All of our greatest gifts,
Where we’re engaged to teach, inspire;
In which my spirit lifts
The all of you, who come to know
Yourselves as I’ll know me.
We’ll dance ahead, committed
To each other feeling free.