It was transformative,
the accident
that made me who I am
today.
It defined me
in ways I couldn’t imagine
at the time.

The swagger I had known before?
Gone
as was my effortless way around the boxing ring
and the skating rink.
And my high rankings in gym class?
Like the wind, gone also.

I had to refine my identity
to conform to the crippling injury.
I was recreated in its wake
no longer a scholar
I became an artist
for life proved tempestuous
and who was I
to fly in its face?

My revisionist soul grew and stretched
and expanded into a life
I hadn’t expected
earlier.
I am who I am
because of that bus
and though I wasn’t happy at the time
– and am certainly not happy now –
I am grateful
for I can no longer picture
any other life
than the one I live.