Monday, March 10, 2008

Rebecca

I will never forget Rebecca from grade school,
the one with a bony right arm, shoulder bones
protruding out of her tank top's arm hole,
she seemed not to be overly conscious of it.
I looked at it often. Why her left side
normal and right side skin and bones?

I wanted to ask her about it, but I remained
silent. Later, I heard she had polio.
I wondered if she was in pain. She never showed it.
She was courageous, strong. Her words gentle and wise.

We often met on the school yard during recess,
bouncing a big, red rubber ball
on the blacktop—throwing it, catching it.

She glowed like sunshine, fair skin,
blond, shoulder-length hair and glistening
eyes like faceted aquamarine jewels. Her smile
of innocence, her presence an inspiration.

A big sister to me—my playground buddy,
making the best of a friendship.
She became my beacon of truth and light.
Maybe she was thankful to have me
as a friend who treated her like a normal person.