Poetry

When I roll through a door With my son in my lap,

I don’t deserve your praise, so please don’t clap.

The looks of pity and horror Hurt too, you see

Because be it your praise or fear Be it a cheer or a leer,

One thing is always clear,

You’re singling me out for my disability, And living life is no inspiration.

Do my words give you clarity? Clarity not needed by my son.

 

I live life from a wheelchair That gives full independence. I know you see it or hear it,

And of my chair you’re fully aware So can you just give full acceptance

To me in my chair?

Because I promise my son can see and feel The fear behind your stare.

 

I’m not so different from you.

I get happy.

I get frustrated.

I get sappy.

I get infantilized.

I get mad.

I feel all the feels Tell me how living on wheels Makes me different from you?

Being a momma on wheels Is nothing strange,

And I promise my son doesn’t wish me to change.

 

 

For 29 months I nursed my son On wheels.

I chase my son On wheels.

I discipline my son On wheels.

I cook for my husband and son On wheels.

I change my son On wheels.

I say prayers for and with my son On wheels.

 

 

You see the wheels I live on aren’t all-defining Suffocating or confining.

They are a disabled mom’s All access pass

To her toddler’s world,

A world full of peace and calm

And also a world full of giggles and sass.

 

 

My name is Megan. I am disabled, I am Lebanese,

I have Cerebral Palsy, I am legally blind,

I am from the U.S.A., I am a wife,

I am a mother, I am a writer,

And of ALL that makes me ME

I am PROUD!

About this poem: I wrote this poem after my husband and I had to have our first conversation with our two-year-old son about ableism. He asked, “Why people so mean ‘cause momma sit? Momma tell them mean.” After our family conversation, I wrote this in response to my son’s question. I hope this little poem helps people to realize that societal ableism is still taught and fostered today. Many people may be unaware that they are fostering ableism, but the hard, sad truth is that they are. My husband was internally ableist for a long period of time not because ableist thoughts were purposefully passed down and placed on his shoulders, but because family unknowingly continue ableism’s terrible legacy.

Abput the Author:

Hi! My name is Megan Deahl! I am a wife, momma, writer, disability advocate, animal lover, and avid crafter. Do you have questions about ableism? Please feel free to email me at deahldisabilityactivism@gmail.com. We can only eradicate ableism through education.