My Son Has a Super Power
/My son has a superpower.
He is invisible.
Most disabled people are, you know
They are born with it, alongside twisted limbs or broken minds.
My son, he can't walk, or talk, or eat
He can't hear and he will never fly. But
He is invisible.
You may not have seen him. But he saw you
He smiled at you. A smile
Bright as a ray of light shining through a cracked window.
He looked at you.
Hoping you would see past the invisibility tattooed on his skin, cloaked around his wheelchair.
He stood beside his siblings
His cousin and he smiled. For you.
You didn't see him.
Or you wouldn't see him.
Was it the drool on the side of his mouth which
scared you off?
Was it the twisted way he held his hands?
Or the way his head flops slightly to the left?
He smiled still
As you overlooked him, tossing pieces of candy into the bags
Other children held out.
His bag, empty
Invisible.
He smiled still as his aunt explained why he sat at the bottom of your stairs.
"His legs don't work."
He smiled when you refused eye contact with him and handed a piece of candy to me to give to him.
Refusing to touch him.
Refusing to come out of your warm bright homes to see him.
My invisible monkey boy, he smiled for you.
I stood beside him, willing you to see him
Wanting my pride, my love for him to be a beacon for your eyes.
Wishing for your eyes to land on him and see his value.
To see him.
For him not to be invisible.
House after house
We tried.
Door after door, princesses, vampires, Spidermans
they all wished they had super powers as they begged for treats
My boy,
he tricked them all.
He still smiled
even when you didn't see him,
couldn't see him,
wouldn't see him.
Everybody should have a superpower.
Nobody should be invisible.
If I could pick a power
I'd use it to shine the light on every person with disabilities,
I'd make you see.
My son. He is NOT
Invisible.
He is invisible.
Most disabled people are, you know
They are born with it, alongside twisted limbs or broken minds.
My son, he can't walk, or talk, or eat
He can't hear and he will never fly. But
He is invisible.
You may not have seen him. But he saw you
He smiled at you. A smile
Bright as a ray of light shining through a cracked window.
He looked at you.
Hoping you would see past the invisibility tattooed on his skin, cloaked around his wheelchair.
He stood beside his siblings
His cousin and he smiled. For you.
You didn't see him.
Or you wouldn't see him.
Was it the drool on the side of his mouth which
scared you off?
Was it the twisted way he held his hands?
Or the way his head flops slightly to the left?
He smiled still
As you overlooked him, tossing pieces of candy into the bags
Other children held out.
His bag, empty
Invisible.
He smiled still as his aunt explained why he sat at the bottom of your stairs.
"His legs don't work."
He smiled when you refused eye contact with him and handed a piece of candy to me to give to him.
Refusing to touch him.
Refusing to come out of your warm bright homes to see him.
My invisible monkey boy, he smiled for you.
I stood beside him, willing you to see him
Wanting my pride, my love for him to be a beacon for your eyes.
Wishing for your eyes to land on him and see his value.
To see him.
For him not to be invisible.
House after house
We tried.
Door after door, princesses, vampires, Spidermans
they all wished they had super powers as they begged for treats
My boy,
he tricked them all.
He still smiled
even when you didn't see him,
couldn't see him,
wouldn't see him.
Everybody should have a superpower.
Nobody should be invisible.
If I could pick a power
I'd use it to shine the light on every person with disabilities,
I'd make you see.
My son. He is NOT
Invisible.
I see you, kid.