Category: disability

Attitude Wins

If I measure progress
by “used-to’s”
illness and age win

I used to play tennis
speed and muscle
ease of ambition

This place, the nexus
of how life has changed,
teaches me appreciation

Frost in my veins
permanent, warmth
of memories aglow.

(Image my own.
Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)

Not Thursday

Today is Thursday
I’m certain of it
Thursdays Mom calls
after her hair appointment

But she hasn’t called
and I can’t find that show
I watch on Thursday nights
Did they change the programming?

And then I remember
that garbage goes out
Thursday night
and so I scramble, but

everyone else has forgotten
how can this be?
Today is Thursday
and nothing is going right.

(For Reena’s Xploration Challenge: featured image is prompt. I suffer from inflammation on the brain, which at times affects my understanding of reality – especially when I’m overtired. During these times, my mind will lock on to what it believes to be true, even if I’m totally off base. Reena’s image reminded me of those days.)

Who Speaks For The Silent?

Your voice, he said, it sounds…different…

Project your voice
I learned in theatre,
speak to the back
keep it strong
don’t falter

I had to replay your message several times….

Hold that note
dig deep –
from the diaphragm
sing from your belly

Must be something wrong with the machine…

Demonstrate conviction
let your tone convey passion
stand tall, be confident
motivate your audience
Dad, the orator, told me

I couldn’t make out your words….

Performance demands voice
activism relies on voice
change requires voice

You sound so…weak…
not yourself at all

I am losing my voice
but not my words;
I have much to say
who will say it for me?

(Who Will Speak for the Silent first appeared here in October, 2015. My voice was the first thing to go at the onset of ME. It would be years before I could speak and sustain a conversation again. In revisiting this poem, it occurs that it is still relevant for all those who do not have a voice, who cannot speak for themselves, so I resubmit here on behalf of Woman’s History Month and am linking up with my weekly challenge, dig. Image my own)

Gnawing

I’m gnawing on possibility
the suggestion that my dabbling
could amount to something

What? my gut protests
reminds me of limitations
physical constraints

But I’ve had room to breathe
and resources at hand
and creativity, expansive

dwells in possibility
nibbles at suggestions
mind scrabbles to find

excuses – laundry,
a drawer that needs sorting
but the door has opened

and I’m seeing a path
a way through the noise
a sliver of light beckoning.

(For Ragtag’s daily prompt: gnaw. Image my own.)

Time To Cruise Is Not Now

Is there an itinerary for this lockdown?
I watch as engagements line up

Adventure-seekers, eager to connect
willingly engage, purchase a ticket

How I would give my life to be a part
hop aboard a sailing ship, escape

Except disability has recalled my passport;
I am a vehicle without fuel, grounded

Disappointment and I watch as
familiar faces venture out –

a friend’s brother
an old crush
a high school acquaintance

While envy reminds me
I’m always an outsider
Sensibility wakes me up

This boat I’m missing out on
is no luxury cruise ship, but
a dalliance with death –

I surrender to isolation
count the casualties.

( Image my own.)

Ride Along With Me (2)

Passenger, am I
backseat traveller
input unsolicited

I ride along.

Passenger, am I
view limited
direction speculative

I am not driving.

Driver is motivated
self-assured
I relax…until
temptation boards

Wait a minute; who invited temptation?

Driver is distracted
ego taking the wheel
Who’s paying attention?

I am not alone.

Lackadaisical dropout
sits with me – mooch
and weekend boozer

How did he get here?

Vehicle is outdated,
I warn, not a lot of room
ride at your own risk

They don’t make them like this anymore.

Crazy sister is here too
or maybe it’s me, ’cause I swear
I saw the ghost of another

It’s a good thing I’m not driving.

Darkness falling and out of gas
we stop and neon lights blare
Make a break for it!

Or… I could find a new driver.

Maybe put God at the wheel.
Would have to pay attention.
Oust the adulteress and sloth.

Be on my best behaviour.

Turn my vehicle into a golden chariot
powered by horses with wings of white
fly above all the obstacles

Headed for the Promised Land.

All fantasy, of course
I’m a backseat passenger
until vitality is restored

Then I’ll park this old model

And get a new one with GPS.

(Ride along with me first appeared her November 2014. This version is edited. Image my own.)