Meeting With Health Poem by Fatima Alzhara Rafa

In the waiting room of the clinic,
a boy waits with his father.
He and I are the youngest in the room—
the bluest of our generation.

Then, another meeting with health:
he wraps his father in his arms—
'It's a temporary situation.'

The neurologist looks at the scans:
'There's a difference. No harm this time.'

And somehow, in my arms,
the head of someone I love is healed.
God heals. He is healed.

His face turned to bloom.
'No one gets out happy from this room.'
But we