Day 292

The doctor does not think
the boy, 15, will live.  Miraculously
he lives.  Both legs
gone, a hand terribly disfigured.
Still the boy has a smile
on his face when he
gets off the plane
to be taken to a hospital
where he will be fitted
with prosthetic legs, have surgery
for his hand.  And he is one
of thousands, tens
of thousands.  How did this one
get chosen?  Was it his smile?
Was it the doctor, who could not
stop crying when he was certain
the boy would die?  The boy
is being taught now
to walk.  He is not
going to die:  not here,
not now.  He is learning
to hold a ball in his new
hand.  To catch it.