Disabled In Stride

a poem by Linda Bates Terrell, USA

So many reasons,
Disabled in stride,
Who is he,
Whom are they disabled,
Or to be brand unabled.
Some labeled,
Low as thieves,
Lacking what, prosperity?

Does one gaze up or stare,
Is their condition considered rare.
Do they wear a new name
Of...Injured, insane,
or some called lame,
Wing clipped, handicapped,
Out of action, or
just plain misconstrued.

Valley's of men back from war,
Some with inward scars they've bore,
Inward of the soul,
Broken in spirit tore
All outward duth pour.

A military car
wreck down a swift hill,
Injured, adjusting now,
to master a simple skill.
A new personality to fill.

He who labels the misfortunate,
Does pity upon them abide?
Dressed in misery
Brotherly Passions afire
Woven with brazen etire.
Alass, they the disabled,
misfortune among,
will deny,
As alone they cry.

Linda B Terrell
March 11 2009

March is disability awarness month. This is written in honor of the many disabled individuals.



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