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"Slippery slope"

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A painful poem by Stefan Lewis-Fish


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There is no weather, like snow and ice weather,

When you're sliding, around, on your wheels.

Revolving legs, no support, for your rump,

When you're rotating, head over heels.


It's amusing to watch but frightening to do,

And remember, in an instant, it could happen, to you.

One moment, well adjusted, white, anglo-saxon male,

The next, decomposing, disabled and frail.


Your world's rearranged, confused, turned around.

The future's uncertain but time can't be unwound.

The message should be clear, even to you!

The question remains, what should you do?


Clear all the paths and protect thee and thine,

Or look to the heavens, seeking a sign?

Whatever the problem, don't break down and cry,

Don't give up easily, at least you can try.


So, if you've fallen over and you're down on your luck,

It's no shame to seek help, there are deals to be struck,

And if you see others, struggling, in pain or in strife,

Enable them!

Empower them!

Break their chains!

Give them life!


© Stefan Lewis-Fish
(23 September 1999)