He reached his fingers to the stars
willed his legs to dance
  forced his head so far back
   that in the bow of his body
    the bridge of his dance
     allowed particles of flaring sunlight
      little faeries of elation
       to traverse to the other side

      He saw his lean lithe body
     pirouette and position,
    ran screaming from one side to the next
   in a perpetual wish to catch
  that last step, that last grand
move, to capture small smiles
for infinity in his psyche

He said adieu to his last dance;
  farewell to the music
   only his ears could capture,
    goodbye to a world of ballet
     without him, his choreography
      no longer
       visible, but still resonating
        in this time and space where
         once he moved.

I may fall,
But am I weak?

I may be mute,
But can I speak?

I may be deaf,
But can I hear?

I may be old,
But when's my death year?

I may be weak,
But am I strong?

God was with me all along.

The tides of time flow beneath my feet
Rippling and flowing uncertainty
I am fish in the waters of constant change
Unpredictable ain't it strange

Will I be eaten by my disability?
Devoured by the shark like features of my own mind?
The stormy waves inside my heart
Will not just depart

The sea the tides of time
Hide my lost treasure sinking in the deep forever
Atlantis a lost city in a watery graveyard
Rusting away
rotten ships
Drowning wreckage of lost sailors

the waves hold a watery vigil
a siren like fate waits
For me with a lover who could save me
or cast me into the murky depths
Maybe the seas of time are all our tears combined
throughout time inside are all our aspirations we cast our nets for
and still we cry more than we catch
So the seas are maintained
For us to sail on...

Live out
Live loud
Live strong
And those like you
Will laugh in relief
That they are not alone
That they like you
Can be who they were born to be
And can do what they came in this world to do

.
She sits for most of the time,
in a metal chair with wheels.
Counting out the value of life
with an injury that never heals.

She waits for most of the time,
to confirm that she is really there.
But how many people notice her
sat down in her wheel-chair.

She's invisible for most of the time,
she is there but nobody spies.
So she spreads her tiny wings
and floats unnoticed to the skies.

She cried for most of the time,
always alone and lonely in a crowd.
Now flying free her spirit rises,
there's no discrimination in the clouds.


© Pagan Paul (25/12/16)

The word function is in dysfunctional

Sure, but when dysfunctional is disabled

How does one continue to walk?

The scream starts in my heart, but exits through my head
Every day I rise I remember that from the head down, I am dead
The things I thought would be poor sport, the wheelchair and work
Have turned to nothing more than **** and poo, and sometimes in the bed
My life changed in just one moment when I saw that specialist
But now I forget quite how I felt in that exact moment at best.
I lost the will to live when I found I could not do the things I loved
To walk upon the beach, to climb and see the coast
To swim, to run, to make love and be with the one I loved
So now I must sit and mourn and try to not look forlorn
There are those I love the most, who have given me hope
And those who slid away, trying to forget the other me
But when it comes down to it, I have to do my best on my own
I’ve been told I have to be strong, or that I am strong
The truth be told, I have no opportunity to be anything else
For who, if not me, will care to push me where I need to go
Life is ****** if not ****** well tough
But me, I don’t have to accept it as anything more than a game
And so I propel myself through the inkiness of night
But I see the light ahead, as I cannot afford to fail
And as they say, life goes on and I will refuse to be left behind
So I am strong and hard, but inside there is space
Space for my feelings, space for my cares
All in a box I’ll not ever reveal to someone else

A couple of weeks ago my aunt asked me,
what the first thing I noticed about a girl is.

''Her hands''.

The conversation quickly turned *****,
''you just want to know what they are able to do to you''.

At first,
I thought it was funny,
almost agreeing with the statement that had been made but then,
I realised that we all want what we can't have.
Looking down on my own hands for ages thinking that I wish they could just function.
I have been looking for the hands I have never had,
in the girls I have been debating whether or not they were,
girlfriend material,
judging my looks,
my hands,
my shape and my face while other girls wants what I have.

After realising just that,
I decided that from now on,
I will stop looking at hands and look into their eyes instead.

(e.k.j.)