Cripple Nature made me incomplete She failed to give me two good feet The left one’s fine, It’s well in line But the other is rather bittersweet It twists around to a great degree A much disgruntled employee Of a brain as quick as a lightning stick But useless far below the knee. A childhood spent in pain and traction And futile physiotherapeutic action Didn’t help a jot Just hurt a lot To the surgeons evident satisfaction “Crippled crippled look he’s lame Hop-along Cassidy is his name!” I died inside Hid and cried Hung my head in mortal shame Very cruel the other kids could be Jeered and laughed and bullied me Until I wondered if God had blundered And so resolved to go and see I did my best to meet my maker But became a recuperator In hospice bed Far from dead A suicide impersonator There came an angel in disguise A teacher who didn’t instantly despise Nor ridicule A crippled fool But tried instead to empathise She gave me books and made me read Seeing clearly an inner seed As yet unfilled underskilled But glowing there, a burning need She opened up my narrow mind Allowing me to leave behind A crippled past A plaster cast That held me in it’s prison bind Now I write with creativity And with much publicity bathed in admiration bought in proliferation treated with tender sensitivity And though I have a leg still game It seems that popularity and fame Make folk forget My foot’s offset And I am still inherently lame |