Vulnerability is the key into a
heart
And with the call at 3:30 in the
morning
Ours were ripped wide open
It was an alarm more than a ring
Dreaded, and never anticipated
“She’s hurt, and gone to the
hospital”
Misfortune occurs upon the
unexpected
Two days before she’d been to the
Hairdresser, coifed for Easter
Sunday
En route, we reflected with guilt
On what could’ve been overlooked
She lived alone, but it’s in
character
With hope, we recalled her smile
Always joyful on welcoming
visitors
Plenty of food and pastry on the
table
As a nightly routine, with
arthritic fingers
She’d knead the beads of a rosary,
to tally
Her prayers for family and the
world
The room was hollow and dark with
Only the echo of alarms and
monitors
Her silence was
chilling
Seemingly asleep, she remained
still
A green wash cloth concealed her
face
We waited for
her breath
On a light touch of her arm
She chuckled with a proclamation
“I’m not yet an organ donor”
Stunned with delight, we held her
hand
And gradually borrowed of her courage
We examined her face and body
Curls not fluffed by a two day Mousse
Were caked flat by sheets of blood
That still dripped the side of
her face
With swelling about the eyes
And purple hues to the flesh
Her features were heavily
distorted
As if to assuage our own
vulnerabilities
We rinsed her
hair
And cleansed her
skin
In a fresh housecoat we brought
her
She allowed a wheelchair ride
But only as far
as the car
