after Dan Gottlieb

Everyone has a big black thing that falls
from the sky he says, like the truck tire
that came flying through his windshield    

he hardly remembers when he could not
lift his head, when it took two attendants
to drop him into the wheelchair
but he remembers fits of anger
when he was not able to reach for a cup
when his fingers could not grasp his pen

he wanted to shake his fist at God –
but even that he could not do  

Ah, in time we all learn
to do what we think we cannot do, he says
I am more than my body
he says, quoting Ram Dass

I am more than the one whose house burned down             
more than the one whose job was cut, whose partner left
more than a diagnosis, more than a refugee, more than a victim

we learn to manage what we think we cannot and we survive     
wounds, once raw, turn to scars
scars, once purple and thick, fade and flatten                     
leave a prickly numbness, invisible to others, that help us remember