A Small Angel With A Bucket Full Of Stones Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

Mentally and physical disabled
were the words
that the doctor used to describe him

but to us he was no different
than the other children
and he was even more determined
to show us what he was capable of

and while we were extending our house
early one morning before the sun was barely up
he appointed a job to himself
when he was barely three years old.

His face was red and dirty
and although he walked very difficult
and almost skew like a sea-crab
he had to proof himself
to the world and to everybody else
and he carried the gravel
from the gate to the backyard
in a bucket in his tiny little hands.

To him the pieces of gravel were
like lost pearls
and he never dropped a single stone
and he smiled from ear to ear
as he emptied his small bucket
next to the load of his brother’s wheelbarrow
and they were
his precious gravel diamonds.

He was constant like an ant
and he only stopped that day
when he peaked into the backdoor
for a glass of water
and although he could not speak
he indicated his thirst
with his hand upon his throat.

He could not wait to start working again
after lunch
and walked to and thro until sunset
and when finally he put his bucket down,
he threw his arms into the air
and his eyes did lit up
and he laughed so loudly
that he could be heard for a mile
as he showed that his work was done.