As a fetus, we move to the forces of natures
tethered on our mother’s umbilical cord:
wince left, shift right.
We are born and given even more stimulus
and we move even more:
our reflexes tested, our heads lifted for milk.
Down the road, our senses are lobbied and mandated.
Want some candy? Get your ass over here!
Come here, sexy. Yes, you, babe.
And so we continue moving, whether we want to or not.
And then one day, as fate works on us, something occurs;
you fall, misstep, are roughed up.
All of a sudden, you can’t move as well as could minutes ago;
this is when you really miss moving the most.
This is when ingenuity becomes the creme that rises to the top.
In pain, I defy my muscular disaster:
I slither down my dressed bed, until my knees hit my cold tiled floor.
My knees become pivot points and I manage to spin 180 degrees;
I try to get up, yet I fall.
Was there any blood? No. Then here we go.
For a moment I’m reduced to crawling on my knees;
it’s fun to think that I once did this much more graciously.
Left, right, left, right; from my room to the kitchen.
Now I can appreciate why Mom always swept the floors constantly.
And before you know it, I’ve arrived to where I wanted to go.
Believe it or not, I was proud of that accomplishment.
Even when your own body tells you that you can’t,
your brain and willpower in the end directs the show.
Days later, I’m back on my feet; hobbling left, moving slightly faster than before.
Oh, but I move, and I will move others again;
and long after I am gone, even after the these words disappear,
something I do today will move others tomorrow.
Movement is all about willpower.
We are intricate machines, but we remain useless without guidance.
Willpower is a form of guidance. I will not be left offline.
I will not be left strewn on the floor.
I will power my move. Now move!
