She was a sacred, gifted-hands of sorts
smuggling her own kindness, into unwanted things
she herself understood, a crippled kind of loneliness
understood gigantic forced place-mats by the door,
wheelchair-accessible ramps
the back door, off the side rails
disabled stalls in corner sized restrooms
she holds doors for the walking,
they say- excuse me, nod a bit of thank you
with no legs of her own…
studies have shown 91 % of all teens believe kindness is dead – rather died long-ago
she lives to teach them kindness without legs,
of her own.
kindness sis Krissy
A Poet's Vision 