Medical centers are anxious places, moments
when panicking hearts await tests, procedures
and where, oft in silence, some closet themselves
as if to hide their fears, lest verbalized thoughts
fill the coffers with deposits of irrational dread.
And so it was this morning, the gathered slices
of humanity hunkered down like a town asleep,
waiting, yet not so patiently for same names.
Averting eyes, retreating, lest fear to tear meet
some vulnerabilities scented with shame.
Behind the desk, brown eyes hesitated, a sob
betrayed the gentle smile on her shadowed face;
and yet, from our common darkness, the space
between us filled with light, a gift from God's grace.
And I told her, Yes, I'd be honored to hold your hand.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And I told her, Yes, I'd be honored to hold your hand. A nicely penned poem....................
Thank you, Akhtar Jawad.