A Time to Dance(15)

            me, Ma, Pa, Chandra.

            And God.

            God is within you, Veda. So is His strength.”


I don’t feel God is anywhere nearby,

            let alone inside me.


“Your grandpa was a wonderful man,” Paati says.

            “When your pa was a baby and I was widowed,

            I fell from the heights of being

            a joyful young wife and mother

            into a dark valley of sadness.

            I could have stayed there.

            My in-laws wanted to look after me.

            They were loving and kind.

            And working widows were rare in my day.

            But I didn’t dwell on what I’d lost.

            I returned to college, became a teacher,

            grew independent.

            Because I chose to focus on all I still had:

            my son, my intelligence, my supportive in-laws.”

            In the past, Paati’s spoken of my grandpa.

            But until now I never realized

            how much she loved the man

            her parents made her marry.

            And how unusual and brave Paati was.


As she leaves the room Paati says, “Doesn’t mean it was easy.

            I still miss your grandfather. I think of his kindness every day.

            Some things you never get used to being without.”

            Like a right leg.

            Like moving effortlessly everywhere.

            Like dance.





FINDING

My

VOICE





A nurse enters, carrying a sponge and a basin.

            She draws the privacy curtain around my bed and starts

            undressing me

            as if my body belongs to a doll she owns.

            My body is not hers.

            It’s mine.

            I still have

            most of it.


“What are you doing?” I’m surprised

            I sound strong enough to make her step back.

            “Sponge bath.” The nurse’s voice wavers.


“I can do it myself.

            I’ve got arms.”


I’m finding my voice

            though I’ve lost my leg.





EXPERIMENTAL PROJECT





Dr. Murali is followed into the room by a strange man

            with flame-gold hair and bright blue eyes.

            Is my pain medication making me hallucinate?


“We’re lucky,” Dr. Murali says, “to have, working with us,

            Mr. James, from America,

            who is collaborating with an Indian research team

            to create cost-effective modern prostheses.

            He’s agreed to help with your rehabilitation

            and with the fitting and making of your prosthesis . . .”

            He suggests I’m lucky, too, to be part of the project,