If a man without arms can dream
bigger than his physical limitations
to become the best archer in the world,
if he can push beyond the frontiers
of all that has been thought possible
for a disabled person,
then why
can't we look beyond
the obstacles hemming us in,
holding us back,
filling our mind's eye
with debilitating fears?  

What would we accomplish
in our lives if we knew
we couldn't fail?  
If every day became
an honest opportunity to grow
and dream and create,
what would we do to fill our days?  

How would it feel to live our lives
unfettered from the voices
that chide us with harsh criticism?
What can we do to silence those
who oppose our dreams?
And why should we
ever again allow
another human being
to shackle or define for us
the best life we choose  to dream?  

When we recognize
that these voices are just
hollow echoes of our own
or others' insecurities,
then we begin to live
authentically,
to delve beneath
the physical depths
into an authentic life
teeming with drive
and determination.

even all things
formed and hardened
subject themselves to change
and to be changed
for what is
cannot refuse the weathering-
deciding to stay the same
letting the same form remain.

yet they will try
to mask the craters
in their complexion-
some will die
before admitting
some roots have severed connections-
for none like to look back
and see that
what has past
is true;
for admitting all the past acts
or the rough patch
can mean some pain lasts
in their view-

but we are all bruised and cracked deep in our bones
with lasting acts that won’t leave us alone
we were made to break at some point in time
but that doesn’t mean that pain controls our lives-
and even when change leaves us in the dark
and we miss home so much with it’s warming heart,
there is a light shining it’s brilliant warmth
and if we just trust, I know that we can still have life in our storms.

Blessed be the moment
I will never have again
The smile
I will never see again
The warmth
I will never feel again
The touch
I will never find again
Because I’ve already found them
In you

to ache is an art.

an art that the human soul is deprived of.

an art that everyone;
                    from toddlers
                             to corporate *******
                             must appreciate.

maybe it requires abrasions,
                                    gunshots
         ­                               or mockery from
                                some ****'s mouth

but the glory
of the slow-burn realization
                     that we're ******
is the wake-up call
                     that everyone must hear.

and we're stupid enough to understand
that aching
              is like drowning
                          in experience.

and drowning
        is preferable in deep wounds
            than in the shallow waters
                     of a rushed healing.


and it's saddening
cause
as the youth's yearning
           for the morphine that
                 'self-care' offers

the more we forget to ache.