Who thought…? Who knew? Now it’s you And fingers gone To amputation.
You’ve seen programs. Said, “How brave!” Thought about limbs saved and strengthened. Training every second hour, Power growing, Phantom aches and pains still gnawing: They’re a marvel!
Now you know! For that’s the way the cookie crumbles, And it humbles one, for sure. There’s no cure for amputation. Something gone is gone.
The answer is to go on Taking pleasure, having fun, Taking sun and making merry ‘fore the sun goes down, The gone-ness mostly in the brain.
Amputate; To cut off (a limb) by surgical operation. Origin: mid 16th century: from Latin amputat- ‘lopped off’, from amputare, from am- (for amb- ‘about’) + putare ‘to prune’.
Note: “Amputation” was aimed at anyone who is amputated and happens to read it. It’s not aimed at the world. I saw this impressive documentary about a group of men and women sorely handicapped in one other way, taking a group trip to and through Vietnam, and was so moved I just had to write something. They went through rivers, caves, highways, narrow wooden bridges, taking turns at driving, some never having driven, trusting one another, exhorting one another... That’s what inspired this poem.