From across the roomYou catch her eye, your Mommy.A smile splits your face.Her face mirrors yours.You kick your feet with such glee,Joyful Mommy’s home.Your excitement bringsHer such happiness. Rarely,Does she smile like this.With such love and peaceAcross her face, it’s clear, youComplete the puzzle.You grin. You’re ready.She tosses you overhead,Air fills with laughter.When the game is done,Mommy pulls you to her heart.You lay your head down.Your grin says “kidding!”A giggle bursts forth. You jump.Mommy shakes her head.Still, she smiles softly,Taking you into her arms,Holding you aloft.

Lee este poema en español aquí.

Read this poem in English here.

Rising from the ashes like a phoenix,

Throughout the universes,

Lee este poema en español aquí.

Read this poem in English here.

Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a bookshelf before?

It’s an epiphany when you realize for the first time that the white stick-figure on the blue parking sign is you. That's you. Now you can park in that fat sirloin of a spot. Now you are “the disabled.”

This memoir is a partner piece to "In the Space Where a Name Was Erased."

I write to appease thatchild in me who never sawthemself on the page.

A poem by Laura Browne-Lambert, "Mantra" discusses the inherent ableism in the cultural expectation to never waste a second of time on something mundane, to always be working, adventuring, and creating. As a disabled artist and writer, Browne-Lambert often struggles to allow herself to rest and recover between activities. Inevitably, her body forces her to rest when it is unable to keep up with the demands placed on it. Her poem is a message to herself and others like her that rest is productive in its own way by allowing you to be rejuvenated.