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Poetry Pleases: Wheelchair Bound

Linda McLean asks us to share the thoughts of those confined to wheelchairs.

It just doesn’t matter how often I say,
“It’s really not fair things have happened this way.”
Frustration’s the name of this new game I play,
Continuously, tediously, day after day.

It’s boring and wearing and getting me down.
At times I just yearn for that hole in the ground!
Occasions and seasons keep going around
These depths of despair I know shouldn’t be found.

There’s anger to cope with and fear of rejection,
There’s pain and discomfort and fighting dejection.
I feel left behind, or some kind of exception,
But have to accept and learn not to question.

Yet, blessings abound, and I’m grateful for these:
Good people who care for me, friends who can please,
I still see the sunlight or feel the soft breeze,
I laugh, talk and listen with consummate ease.

I have food, warmth and comfort, perhaps more than you
I even have work, though complain of that too!
You think I’m dissatisfied? Nothing’s more true!
My freedom’s restricted – and not least by you.

For you have no hassle with kerb, step or stair.
You can’t know how wretched life is in a chair:
To plan every action – the how, when and where,
The problem of transport for getting me there.

So, please think of me as you all dash about
In that lovely, big world, where I long to get out.
My movement’s restricted – my feelings are not.
Give thanks for your freedom – it cannot be bought.

© Linda McLean


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