Outlying

Outlying

Do I have any claim on the world

On my body

My name

The clamour of chaos

The surreality of day-to-day

Living

The pretence of civility

When there is no empathy

Acceptance of difference

Value in virtue

Or presence

In a stable state of mind

What do I say of myself?

Have I any ownership

On what other people think

Of me

Of the world?

Am I to shout louder to be heard

Is it right that I should

When so many

Who have gone before

Will come after

Do not speak

Go unheard

Or were disappeared

In the recording.

The scribes and historians

The literate few

Who smote down so many

With the stroke of a pen.

Where is the sense in

Pretending otherwise

When power resides

In the hands

Of those who wield

The might of what is right

According to their law.

I am not going to argue

My case for equality

When every argument

Is weighted in favour

Of the rule maker

Not the rule breaker.

Who are my peers

When I struggle to come

To terms with who I am

And where I might be placed?

Perhaps I am an outlier

A blip in the system

A blot in the copybook

Unrecognised in a census

Of social cohesion.

In any grand scheme

To be judged

By different standards

To the norm

Those privileged enough to set them,

Define the parameters

And will always be one step removed

From the rest of us.

So help me

If that isn’t true

And if it isn’t

What is?