The Miracle

The wheelchair was his only companion,
Since the dreadful day,
The darkness that shrouded him every moment,
Reminding him of the accident,
The haunting voice
That still rung in his ears,
Every day,
"You will never walk again..."

 ***

A dejected man,
A mother in disguise,
She slowly broke through his farce,
The wall he had built,
Nursing his wounds,
She gave him strength,
A distant beacon of light,
A white speck that made him believe...

 ***

Gloom had struck the land,
News spread like cold mist,
Numbing him,
As he sat in his chair,
A still statue,
Not listening to what he heard,
Refusing to believe
That the angel had left our midst...

 ***

The parishioner looked around,
One final time,
Before unfurling the statue,
Mother carved in white,
Dedicated to all who still needed her presence.
Afar he saw a man rise,
In great pain,
Walk a few steps and fall unconscious,
As others rushed to his aid,
An unnecessary delay for a few minutes...

 ***

When they finally uncovered the image,
Tears were rolling down its eyes,
Some said it was a miracle,
Such a thing had never been seen,
Scientists gave explanations,
Technical terms,
But they all forgot the lone figure,
Who still whispers to his Mother
And walks in the park everyday...

~ Rahul Misra ~

* Dedicated to the Teresas and Nightingales of this
world... who make us believe in the miracle that is
life.

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