i can't help but keep asking

about the orthopedic program of SAP-VN (Social Assistance Program for Vietnam)

five fingers
melting into one
what've you got
for a grip crossing the bamboo pole*?
the arms short,
the elbows sad, reversed
they are stubborn
heeding not your commands

your legs shrunk
have yet risen once
bones and skin deformed, in mutual denial
they disagree, leaving you straitened
your sense of disability flutters

your four limbs speak different languages
your life paralyptic, dragging along
the agony grows on your hair
inundating you in a marginalized identity

your sleep unsound,
your wake like a spineless bamboo
crawling round at the foot of the society
searching for home in vain

who is responsible
for your sufferings?
do i sue this life,
hatred, or wars?
i can't help asking
why you are disabled?
and why penury keeps stalking you...

i can't help asking:
why you must wait
all of these years
for a surgery
to be free
so that with the first time you rise
your life is clothed in the silk of humanity

the belated steps
filled with hope
let us help you
make a first attempt

the hesitant steps
post-surgery
may you walk with poise
into life

(*) Some bridges in Vietnam are simply made out of a bamboo pole. To cross, one needs to hold fast to the supporting rail above the bridge.