Submission Forty-Two

One of my own for a change. . .

The track we call life. . .To fall or grasp the hand. . .

Dedicated to my Mummy and her new legs/wheels. . .

What if our reflexes whispered instead of sprung
What if our limbs failed to move when our brain sent the request
What if we could not move for months
What if it hurt to be hugged
What if our whisper fell short
What if hope loomed in the distance but we could not grasp it
What if a mare ran a race to fall
Fall
Fall
Laying on the track
The men walk up
The men walk up deciding between helping or shooting
What if they did a bit a both
Built you up only to shoot
Shoot
Shoot
Could you survive

The thing is
We do
We survive disease
Disease
Disease
When our arms grip the metal bars and we pull ourselves to our feet
You take that first step
Take that first dance
Take that first hand and slide
Slide
Slide
Don't let those men put you in a chair
The electric chair
You killed no one
The life before you is yours
Revamp the chair give it wheels
Let it roll
Roll
Roll
Spray paint the metal
Make it your own
Give it a name
Personify your new legs and
Dance
Then live
Your life

Grasp it
Breath it
Let the heart pound
Pound
Pound
Its yours
Only yours
You can take it
Live it
Let it
Roll it

Then grasp the hand
It will be there
Waiting
Waiting
Waiting

HOPE

~Submitted and written by Kashia Gale