outside the hospital ward,
across the rooms we cannot go,
a woman sat, eager,
yearning, yearning
strongly for something,
uncontained, agitated,
rubbing the phone in her palm
and changing the ways
of her legs on the seat.

from behind the foggy door
sounded the boots and heels of nurses,
and echoed the commands of the doctor.
what rushed and resonant footfalls
drumming, beating, to the
news that makes her wait.
what preparations for a
dismal or relieving thing.
how wrung the heart of the woman,
how wrinkled her dress,
how baggy the eyes, sleep-deprived,
how naked and searching her gaze,
how muffled and cautious her voice.

the masked face of a nurse
slowly pushes the door open
with large blooming eyes much like
those of the woman, spreads her gaze
and finds her standing up from her seat.

half the word is said without being said.
the disbelief in the wailing woman
keeps her world together.
the nurse’s hand is on her shoulder,
and her own on her mouth,
eyes surging out of her face,
water running down her cheeks
and to her hand and mouth,

the nurse gathers her and shows her
through the foggy door, and the
walls blanket the rest of the scene,
and leave me worrying in unrest
(for one of my own),
as the woman I had just seen.