Sarah took a breath,

And then took a step.

Her world was ripped wide open,

Left flailing in the breeze.

She was one of a million,

The last of her kind.

Breathing moving in rhythm

With each planting of her foot,

She drifted onwards

And kept sliding forward.

Her head felt lighter

As others helped her along.

She sang a ditty of ability,

Of moving effortlessly,

Of being free again.

The nurses smiled.

For Sarah was an activist.

Even though her bones were frail

Her mind raced along unfettered

Galloping into her golden years.

In the nursing home she argued,

Fighting with conviction

What others years younger

Are learning on the outside.


© 2017 Valerie Hathaway

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