The Post Tragedy Blues

I’ve waited for you

longer than I ever should,

you fisted hands in my hair, so you know

I will return on bruised knees that

sting both heart and skin. I

saw your eyes gloss when she died

heart first slow

than all gone, with blood running

down her unblemished skin. I followed you through

corridors, triage, trauma rooms - the

slick of crimson along the halls

no matter the number of

nurses, we couldn’t keep up. Your

gaze was haunted

when I climbed into your car, returning to your home

both of us silent and

the radio silent and the night silent but the

beat of my heart guided you to the surface, after the toughest

shift of your life, the first of mine. Part

of me wondered if I was up for this, is

this what the rest of my life will be? That

thought plagued me worse than a measles outbreak. We

crawled into bed, both

of us unsure – we never were before – now I know

the history replaying in your mind, what

would it take for you to whisper what happened

five years ago, in that same room I took you to

so you

could find a semblance of peace in the carnage. Why

do you suffer in quiet, when I'm by your side, you’re

partner in life even if we can’t be out?

The next morning, I awoke on

your chest, a thumb beneath my ear, your

pulse as steady as my own.

I will compel myself to be merry

after those days, light up like a Christmas

tree if I must, so as to please

you, to comfort you. I don’t

leave you to fall because I’m there to answer the call.