Poetry: Bound with Hope by Mark Tulin

My whole life is bound to the chair,

But I still sing and play a guitar.

I still say hello to people who pass by.

I still face each morning with hope.

My life may be bound to this chair,

But I don’t let the straps hold me back.

Powered by a 12-volt battery,

I throttle my movement with grace and dignity.

My chair has become a part of me like a protective brother, a loyal sister.

All that I own and care about is securely attached.

Even with my life stuck in neutral, head forever cocked, and a catheter bag spilling over,

I still find meaning.

I still have a reason to play.

©️MFT