Unity in Isolation

Crutches.

Two of them.

One strapped to each arm.

 

That’s the first thing they see,

But do they see me?

 

Stares.

I feel them.

Eyes latch then quickly flick away.

 

That’s the first thing I see, but

Will they ever see me?

 

Heart.

Broken.

Fearing the fleeting connections.

 

Maybe I won’t let them see.

See the true me.

 

Him.

His eyes.

Unity in isolation.

The silver of my walkers reflecting in his eyes.

The silver of his wheels reflecting in mine.

 

What’s the first thing he sees?

It’s me.

 

Heart.

Open, Connecting.

Questions.

Unanswered. Yet,

Fear.

Withdrawing.

 

He knows the beauty and ugliness in disability.

He knows I am more than I seem.

 

Hands.

Worn and calloused from thousands of pushes.

Hold Hands.

Worn and calloused from thousands of steps.

Start a new journey.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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