Back in the 70s and 80s, I was just a CP person with pipe dreams, a rebel with a cause, but with no one beside me, except for my dance teacher Al Gilbert and my friend Robert. Like the birds in the poem, I was nowhere to be seen. Like most people with disabilities, I was invisible in our society.
The chirping I heard sang the same melody I heard in my heart. I knew what I had to do. Whether or not anyone wanted to help me, I would do everything in my power to climb out of the quicksand of labeling and discrimination.
Within the well of my being, I knew that if anyone at all gave me the tiniest bit of help, just a hand up, I could move forward at that crucial time in life.
I had to keep speaking up and never acquiesce to these negative life experiences of being ignored. They would alter my life for the worst. Not just for the worse, but for the worst.
To accept this, I had to make a huge decision to change not only my belief structure, but my mind-set, my attitude, and how I looked at life.
The chirping was a calling. Those lonely birds sang to me, and I heeded their call. I sang back to them. And I sing still to this day.
CITY WALLS
Nowhere to be seen
I hear lonely birds chirping
Within city walls…
Original text ©2024 by Karen Lynn-Chlup. All rights reserved. Image by
Singing in my soul with the only kitten