Immobile
I saw a man with the courage to live
without legs or arms; he couldn't even crawl.
Begging for coins, folks weren't eager to give:
he's plopped on the street like a broken doll.
Hardened hearts walk by with barely a glance:
some accost him with sarcastic remarks.
Garnering pity is his only chance:
and so, he checks each stranger's eyes for sparks.
A quadriplegic: he's left immobile;
limbs lost to war, a fractured Frankenstein.
And yet, he attracts Angels with his smile,
connecting with souls who are genuine.
I can't imagine myself in his place:
or ever fathom what he's had to face.
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