My wheelchair is not a sign of weakness or of strength
Most days it just helps me get from here to there
But sometimes it brings out an urge to play,
I race my grandsons down the driveway, or speed a mile down the bike path.
My wheelchair is not noble or courageous
But it takes me to church, out for breakfast, and to the grocery store,
Some days it lets me just sit here and write
And lets my mind race down new paths.
My wheelchair works best
when my community has gone before,
Creating ramps and curb cuts,
Elevators, and doors that invite me in.
I can join with friends in celebrations and worship,
In voting and eating out,
In shopping,
Or in just staying in, when staying in is a choice.
Is staying home a choice, or a prison?
We sometimes create prisons for people in wheelchairs,
Prisons with bars formed by just not knowing
About the barriers that can keep wheelchairs out.
Peg Devlyn
2/4/08