Author: Nicole Kinzel

  • Choices Poem

    Both “it’s up to me” and “it’s my choice” are similar but different. Cryptic twins that have wildly different personalities. Scary and innocent. Same spirits but different hearts. Acting in the way they see fit. Be it wrong or right. *** “It’s up to me” is the more happy of the two. Full of power…

  • Self Defined Poem

    I am greater than words on a page. Diplomas and documents simple keys but not the door. Black and white too one dimensional. Lines too straight and without creativity. Those keys are just accessories meant to be used as needed. Mine to choose from. *** Physical or mental limits are not the door either. The…

  • Incompatible Caregivers

    I have recently discovered that no matter what you try to do, there are some people who you can never please. Disabled people that need physical care often end up with multiple caregivers at once. Especially those that need a significant amount of help. Relying on one caregiver for too long can burn them out…

  • The Gatekeeper Poem

    The gatekeeper blocks the path forward. Wider than logic and taller than what should be able. There is no way around them. Armed with self crafted policy. Guarded by an inscrutable helm that indifferent eyes shine from. Ears unhearing. *** The gatekeeper demands a toll from all. For some it is unwavering submission. Circus hoops…

  • Empty Poem

    It stands as a magnificent shell. Echos without sound. A place abandoned long ago. Hollow in spirit past the point of recovery. Rotted while still standing. Sorrow without feeling the tears. *** Secretive corruption. Worming its way through all that would be good. Hidden behind a facade of what people look for. Taking over any…

  • Not For Me Poem

    I reach out not for me. To support. To build back up. To show care. To simply check in. I reach out to fill a gap for someone else. *** I keep watch but not for me. Those tiny differences in the behaviors of others. Those possible dangers in the environment. Those hazards that threaten…

  • Black Sand Poem

    There are two types of people. And two types of sand at the beach. They both visit the same beach. But have wildly different experiences. What works for one person, may not the other. They have different needs. *** One type of person hates the black sand underfoot. It burns the skin as they hurry…

  • Left To Boil Poem

    A kettle left to boil will eventually damage itself. The water will evaporate with time. Set to work until the final goal is null. Overheated and burnt. Unable to be used again. Needing repair before recovery. *** I was once left to boil. Energy thicker than molasses. Inspiration drier than the kettle. Continuing to try…

  • AAA Madness

    You never know how anti wheelchair the world is until you are stranded three cities away and considering calling a tow truck. I was there today. My mom was driving me to weekly therapy when a driver’s worst nightmare happened: all the dashboard warning lights came on. Every single one. They flashed on and off…

  • The Red Line Poem

    Everyone has a red line. A boundary drawn with deliberate hands on white paper. Handed to us by those that sit closest to us. But the line is ours to draw. A scarlet signal. A correction in response to the paper. *** Not everyone puts the line in the same place. Some people place it…