I was a dancer.
Sleek, beautiful, full of grace and
determination.
Turning slowly, like a window display,
poised on toe.
Like the little ballerina that
always pops up
in your little music boxes,
twirling
endlessly to the tiny music.
I was a dancer.
Rewarded in life with the gift
of refinement.
The gift of dance.
Musicals,
scholarships,
auditions.
I had it all.
I was a dancer.
I thought I was beyond
reach.
Invincible.
Invulnerable.
I was wrong.
Coming home
from yet another musical,
my best performance yet.
It all changed.
I was a dancer.
My friends and I
laughing,
talking,
taking risks.
High on drugs,
and not on dance.
Swerving,
screeching tires,
breaking glass,
painful endless
screams.
Black.
I was a dancer.
Sitting.
Sulking.
Motionless.
I was a dancer, I tell you.
A dancer.
But wheelchairs dont dance.
And no longer do I.
Sleek, beautiful, full of grace and
determination.
Turning slowly, like a window display,
poised on toe.
Like the little ballerina that
always pops up
in your little music boxes,
twirling
endlessly to the tiny music.
I was a dancer.
Rewarded in life with the gift
of refinement.
The gift of dance.
Musicals,
scholarships,
auditions.
I had it all.
I was a dancer.
I thought I was beyond
reach.
Invincible.
Invulnerable.
I was wrong.
Coming home
from yet another musical,
my best performance yet.
It all changed.
I was a dancer.
My friends and I
laughing,
talking,
taking risks.
High on drugs,
and not on dance.
Swerving,
screeching tires,
breaking glass,
painful endless
screams.
Black.
I was a dancer.
Sitting.
Sulking.
Motionless.
I was a dancer, I tell you.
A dancer.
But wheelchairs dont dance.
And no longer do I.