Slowly she walked into the house,
just the way they taught her,
cane, bad foot, good foot and again,
slowly deliberately she walked.
Her left arm hung, useless, forming a claw,
it, swung as she walked.
She ignored it.
It, was no longer hers.
She made it to the ledge, standing erect
eye to eye with me, blazing.
Her hair was finally growing back, white.
We were unaccustomed to that, her
head was concave where they had
taken out the bone and replaced it.
Nothing seemed the same anymore.
Finally she was home.