The therapist, accompanying her
on that first safari to the Laundromat,
as she gazed at coins that were meaningless,
said 'what’s one and one? '
'What’s a one? ' she replied;
and somewhere, at the back
of life’s circling cycle, wisdom met
with innocence, and cried and laughed...
Early in her recovery,
her brain’s left hemisphere yet to heal,
she could not speak her messages
and yet – both hemispheres collaborating - still
could sing them..
as perhaps, the angels know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This accurately describes many a tough crawl out of Stroke-land. A poignant reminder of the struggle. Thank you Michael, we all need to ponder this one.