Dear Langtham

By December 2, 2021December 6th, 2021No Comments

Dear Langtham,
my little friend
not so little anymore
you must be around ten years now.
Nine years now
since I was on your land
your home, I visited.
My wheelchair, you saw.
Fascinated by it
you stood holding onto it
that moment of time
the meeting of our lives
my heart has framed.
Framed still upon my bedside table.
Nine years now
maybe I should make it ten
wait and next year pen.
Write again
but life is not well-rounded
rounded out
doesn’t flatly pave itself out.
You don’t fit in a box
in any box
edges too straight,
angles too right.
Boxes can only hold the concrete.
People, transcendent, translucent
through cardboard they seep.
You are transcendent
but you are not limitless.
I am not limitless!
You and I
curtailed by restrictions our entire lives.
The preaching,
you can do anything.
Is like sandpapering.
My skin, the sting
rubbed raw
against reality
of disability.
My passion, creativity
with physical capacity
Rubbed raw.

The words that flow from my mind
find resistance through fingers that don’t flutter along keys.
They stub keys.
Fingers through which words must squeeze
to grace screen
must audition for selection,
for expression.
My passion, creativity.
It’s incompatibility
with my physical capacity.

May you stretch out your fingers, your toes
fill the entirety of your space.
May you reach your own height,
your depth, your width.
Push to your edges,
press to your edges.
Your edges.
Not that which somebody else specifies.

My little friend
I wonder how you are.
Are you in school?
School splits open possibilities
breaks open opportunities.
School for me was not easy
and for you it may not be easy.
People can be cruel
or just unintentional.
Unintentionality can leave people behind.
I was left behind.
Never really one of them
never cool
never in.
Electric wheelchair, insufficient at highest speed
amongst quick paced feet.
They took the steps
I took the ramps,
the long way around.
So many conversations I never heard
conversations that bond friends.
Friends, sometimes one or two is enough.
May you know what it is to be known.
To be seen
to be loved.
May you know, see love.
May you find the divine
within corners of your mind.
Within the mundane,
within your being,
within your flesh.
For he is in your being
in your flesh.
He holds your space.
For you to hold
to expand within
to dance within.
So expand your chest
with your breath,
stretch out your fingers, your toes
fill the entirety of your space.

by Stevie Wills

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