Sorry, sorry, I completely forgot about this! Hopefully, it's still Wednesday for most of you.
by Emily Lund is a short fiction story found on Wordgathering
, an online journal for literature (poetry and prose) about and involving disability, one I highly recommend. All of the poetry on there, to my knowledge, also comes in audio versions, either recorded by the poets themselves or the Wordgathering
staff - check it out! Here's an excerpt from the story (which is really fantastic, read it):
“Do you want more soup?” Mom asks me, shaking me out of my thoughts.
I shake my head and stare down at my bowl. Tonight’s entrée is a thick minestrone, not a favorite of mine. We eat a lot of soups and stews now, a holdover from those days when I couldn’t manage a knife very well. In those early days, I would scream at them and cry if they tried to cut my food for me, so they just eliminated the problem. For years, I only ate ice cream in cones, after scooping proved relatively difficult. It was only two years ago, when I was fourteen, that I found I had the courage to tell them that I really hated the taste of cones, and asked if I could please use a spoon. It took a lot of courage I didn’t have, and at 16, I still haven’t worked up the nerve to tell them I’d like to try a steak.
This poem is by Samuel ibn Naghrillah, also known as Samuel HaNagid or Samuel the Prince (993 CE - 1056?). I'm not sure of the title, but I found the poem via this Tumblr
. I also found this article, Deal Gently with the Young Man: Love of Boys in Medieval Hebrew Poetry of Spain
by Norman Roth, which is a really interesting read. It includes this poem, but a slightly different translation; this one is the one I prefer though I unfortunately don't know who translated it.
In fact, I love that fawn,
cutting roses in your garden—
which is why I’ve earned your wrath.
If you could see him,
the others would never find you.
“Scrape me some honey
from your hive,” he said.
“I’ll have mine from your tongue.“
Then he bristled
and said to me, sullen:
“And sin before the living God?”
“The sin’s on me,” I answered, “my lord.”