Jack's missing leg, as a conversation piece.
'Did they take the your leg off, recently? '
'Last December.' He replied.
Then, began a long paragraph of emotional ping-pong.
Describing his treatments and cities he'd been to...
seeking extension, as cures...(?) there were none.
Stoic in turns and then boldly defiant.
The fight being fought, for his loved ones, not he.
But there in the midst of a spirit of courage,
a few chance encounters with a two year old girl
A soul who had shared in his vaccuum pack procedures
albeit, more reluctantly, as she'd wriggled and scratched.
This fighter could stomach his own, hateful health,
yet saved all his tears, for those others, not himself.
poem by Hola Mentirosa
Added by Poetry Lover
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