Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Inspiring Truth
Sitting alone
     warming sun
          windshield filtered
Sifting ideas
     through unfocused
Mindless images
     without traction
Through an opening
     distant door with
          all due deliberate speed
A wheelchaired young woman
     self-driven determined
          focused my glance
Rolled to a driverless
     car door opened pulled
          into position sitting
Deftly disassembled
     placed chair behind
          drove off
Left behind
      an image
I was left
     with no complaining
           for now

     The young woman had been shopping in the Supermarket. My wife saw her in the store and was struck by what she took to be an almost defiant I dare you to try to help me attitude. We will never know the back story; why she was in the wheelchair, what her personal life is like, none of that.              
     However, we can safely assume that here was a person taking charge of herself and not wasting time in self-pity. Her story is her story and I can leave it at that. My takeaway is a rewarding afternoon. 

*3.6 million wheelchair users in the United States is is a fact. $2.9 Billion wheelchair industry is a fact. The undetermined number of persons who choose not to be defined by any so-called handicap is the inspiring truth.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019


On the descent
           through the cloud
                no visible data
A moving finger
          vaporizing as it wrote

Now to story repair
           age privileged
                life revisiting
A revisionary pause
           regrasp the dream
               unleash the spirit

Look again
           love the story
                coasting permitted
Live it another way
           going gracefully
                into the dark night

Sing the song
           in half-light
                syntax recast
Meandering paths
           palpitating dreams
                nothing left to fear

                beyond the horizon
I had to shut down my laptop as we descended so I saved my file to the Cloud. and watched the soft damp clouds outside the plane dissipate as the runway came up to meet us. Thus began this poem.
At my age I have the privilege of taking a look at a long past as I consider my disposition to face my future.
This poem is my reflection and my offering. 
     Max Hale