12 February 2013
His smile see's through my awkward stance, his carers dress him as I glance. Tetraplegic -a spinal snap immobilised from the the neck down. Lies in bed throughout the night, hears noises, suffocating tight; panic stricken, he accuse his carers of some ill-abuse.
I -approach with caution and due care, to handle his stress and declare; what he hears -though it may be true, could be really dreams, untrue. Adamant -he denies, deftly states that all is lies; on this matter we disagree, shake hands and make decree to monitor and uphold, the mighty turmoil -he says unfolds.
At night a pauper -by day, a king; he courageously masters' his set of rolling wings; electronically charged, -controlled by his chin, he swerves through his flat and saunters in.
Defeat, a word, he rarely utters, takes charge of issues -which really matters; his mouth -doubles-up as a tool, finds ways to write and type real cool. Never afraid to stand-up and fight, his disability is never really in sight.
~ Copyright Ozlem Yikici 2013.
This poem is inspired by a gentleman I have had the pleasure in working with; he is a true inspiration in what he can do despite his disability -in fact, he makes us seem far more disabled in comparison to himself. This poem I dedicate to him, wherever in the world he may be.
I'm tagging this as part of @Sammielee46's project; hope it's fitting.
More a King than a Pauper • Opuss № I