when he got up
he looked tall and handsome
his benign eyes
lighting up
his fingers folded
in a namaste
having sat for too long
he rubbed his knees
and looked up and smiled
and then looked at himself
and smiled brightly
I stood in prayer, in humility
for I knew not whether to be happy at his freedom
or to be sad at my loss?
after all this was one final standing up
after many years of confinement to the wheel chair
how will I ever forget
his peaceful countenance
his joy at this release
and thus forgot my sorrow in his joy.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem