Extending My Hand
By Adolph Caso
For many years,
On meeting people--
Of all sizes, ages or color,
Especially those
With obvious symptoms of fatal illness--
I always want
To extend my healing hand to them,
To place it on their abdomen
And force the evil spirits
Gently out of their bodies.
But I have never done it:
Neither to Bob, dying from cancer--
His preoccupation centering on the fate of his children,
Nor to Jim, with months of life remaining--
His sister Mary secretly weeping
Against the backdrop of destiny
Un-mercilessly
Blind to her tears
And as deaf to her brother’s silent groans,
All of which are recorded in my heart
With the only wish
That I could have extended my hand to them
As I have done dozens of times to myself,
Wherein,
In rubbing it gently over my stomach,
I would come back to a re-gained life,
Thanks to the warmth of this hand,
Which,
I wished,
I could share with them.
On sunny days,
Jim sits by the pool,
Where he receives rays from the sun.
“Good afternoon, Jim. How are you?”
I ask, my hand tapping his shoulder.
“Hey, there, Adolfo; I’m doing fine.”
An open smile appears on his face;
And,
It causes me to smile as well.
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