Dark Days
I stroke her hand as she lies in her blue print hospital gown, surrounded by machines and tubes and bags. It’s been five days since my friend spoke. I read her poems and prayers, talk to her about our children, and am mildly curious about my peacefulness. I long to remain near. How is it that I could be so comfortable in an intensive care room that some cannot bear to enter and that makes others watch the clock? It’s not my personality. I was drawn to be a lawyer, a speaker, a coach, and a writer. Never a nurturing