The Cripple Poem by Ajit Das

Bent on a pair of crutches
he makes his tentative move.

Stretching the left crutch
he feels his balance,
then with a slow, sidelong jerk
pulls the right hand crutch;
his frail body shivers, then steadies.

After a few steps, he stops,
inhales with a bellowing chest
the fresh morning air,
leaning on the crutches
and the memories of the days
when he was a part of the world.
He now lives outside.

A couple of joggers trot past him.
A limping dog leaves him behind.
The backdrop pins him
a sagging figure, incongruous
on the tapestry of life.

Slowly he looks up, starts afresh.
A rhythm peculiar to him
measures his steps on a scale
of new, resolute move.