Beginnings

by Vidya Shankar

He speaks! He lives to speak! Slurred, inaudible, hoarse A thick, heavy slab of faint sound Yet, for me He speaks

Weakness of the throat muscles brought on by cancer and the trauma of surgery With each passing day, with each meal I feed him, with every bit of strength he gains, when the throat muscles relax

Sitting beside him, looking into his eyes as if teaching a baby to speak I utter a word, a Name. He can barely open his mouth Not even a whisper.

Pain! Pain! Helplessness, doubts, tears. My eyes moisten too, I can not let him see that.

So, I fist my fingers and invite him to give me a bump.