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My Silent World

Posted on April 11, 2008

I blithely stared out window yon at setting sun,
Pond’ring all the things that I had not yet done,
I spied a flower in the distant meadow fair,
And wished with all my heart that I could join it there.

As eyes were drawn to forest green within my view,
Where, playfully a buck and doe were bounding through,
They stopped to slake their thirst in trickling streams that course,
I longed to taste the water flowing from that source.

Next door a tiny child was playing in the yard,
He kicked a can from side to side, he kicked it hard!
A cheer rose up inside me when he feigned to win,
Inside my mind I joined the game that he played in.
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Up upon the hillside stood one single tree,
And as I gazed it burned a hole inside of me,
For just as it was growing and moved not from there,
So I shall never speak or walk or play…

Here in this chair.

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The mind of a person with cerebral palsy is just as active as anyone else’s… maybe more-so.
It’s hard for those of us who enjoy the simple pleasures of life to understand someone who is bound to a wheelchair; whose speech belies the intelligence of a fertile mind.
And it’s criminal for us to assume quality of life is tied to those same simple pleasures.


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2 responses to “My Silent World”

  1. Hello, Gordon

    This poem has many pictures in the body of the write. Like the scene when you joined the child in play with the can

    "Next door a tiny child was playing in the yard,
    He kicked a can from side to side, he kicked it hard!
    A cheer rose up inside me when he feigned to win,
    Inside my mind I joined the game that he played in. "

    The lines are well written with a metamorphosis to empower the poem.

    FABULOUS WRITE!

    Thank you,
    Zuzanna

  2. I sure agree with the sentiments. I spent some time working with mentally and physically handicapped kids, and also with ‘juvies’. (juvenile delinquents)

    It’s hard to know what goes on in minds we think (…) don’t register.
    Because often they do.
    And it’s wrong to take for granted… the things we take for granted.

    I like the image of the ladder. We tend to look up, and envy those who are higher up. We (I)must also remember to look down. And maybe stretch down a hand, to support and help those struggling up.

    You put a lot of work and thought into this poem. Good job.

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