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every discussion
every essay, every poem
every scrap and morsel of language
i search for her
the one who CAN
the one who rides her scooter feeling like a fraud
because she gets up and walks
the one who knows her crutches
could be tossed away
and for the most part,
she'd be okay
but just okay
the one who can pass
can do everything
who knows she'll
most likely never end up institutionalized
doesn't have to rely on anyone else
the one who gets struck down with deceiving labels like "mild"
who could so easily distance herself
if she wanted to
the one who hears ringing accusations in her ears
"you're a faker!"
"you're not really disabled!"
"oh you are, but not like them!
not like those poor broken people!"
and she's afraid that if she listens to them enough
she might start to believe them
i search for her
because in finding her, i will have found myself