A PRAYER FOR THE ONE WHO WATCHES AND WAITS
She sits
She waits for the nurse’s words of – assurance?
Reversing crossed legs, she rehearses responses
for the outcome of this round
Doors part, she holds her breath, guards her heart
and exhales as the news pours forth
He’s stable, able to speak, to move
Readying himself for the next step in the process
the peculiar art of surviving survival
But she
knows the names of every nurse on every shift
And she
knows the feel of styrofoam against her lips
the acid burn of instant coffee
The gelatinous gruel they call gravy
instant whipped condensed processed creamy cafeteria mashed potatoes
(damn, forgot to bring my muesli…)
She watches and waits and can’t using her cell phone
She sits on a plastic chair in a sweltering waiting room
with a flat-screen TV bigger than an MRI
Idol’s on
She stares without seeing, numb
hoping for good news to come
She’s alone for now
She likes it that way, when people stay away
they say they pray for him every day
She sits. She waits. She prays.
And God watches over her tonight
by the light of a fluorescent full moon
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Sharp Little Pencil 