Time was, the touched, the never-quite-right
Members of the family were hidden away,
So as not to alarm or embarass genteel visitors-
Some subterranean, out of the way closet or
Root cellar, or shackled in the barn.
Conspicuously absent from neighborhood gatherings;
Almost as if they had never been born at all.
And nobody dared mention their name.
Broad, cheerful hospitals now house the disturbed
With able, smiling nurses and caseworkers,
Though, the unfortunate ones are no less upsetting-
If somewhat cleaner, and there are tidy names and
Classifications and up- to- date treatments and medicines.
Weekly group therapies and no more chains;
No longer closeted; they dwell in the bright light of day.
And nobody dares mention their name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem