Tuesday morning, at the rush hour, in the absence of taxis and bikes but a crowded lane of commuters waiting the arrival of a carrier for that "early morning struggle to get in".
I watched at the bus stop as eyes from a lot of fixed sockets trailed the shadow of a short woman or plainly put a dwarf lady and I couldn't help but travel along. All the while in my head something was moving it way up the front burner. "What grabbed this much attention from passengers, could it be her person, her natural gifts, what really?" I couldn't lie to myself, the truth came running on it heels before she dashed the corner. It was her height. To onlookers, she was stranger than a Stranger.
She was on trial for being a dwarf. Judges on their stand, judging her from their standpoint. U would pity u, if u were her because she has to entertain concerns for her statue every single day of her life.
Now that I have written a little about "living a dwarf", I feel less hurt, I only wish I could finish the "songs of dwarfs" that sang it way into my Tuesday morning and since have been pulling my hands to pen their feelings. 🌷♥️. It should free me for a bit, now that I have done this.
So, what have you learnt from *dealing with* your disadvantages? You should not believe that this story is just about dwarfs.

Watchout for "songs of dwarfs". If am fired I will burn down the ink of my pen to write it. I hope I will. So I could explain how it feels being in lack, not just in height. Am not dwarf but I know we all have a short coming or unprivileged at some point.

© Chinekwe Wilson