It comes like the tide
only wavering in the moments
you recede, emotions harbored
just beyond the corner of her eye
and the rock-steady hands
that hold her bruised fingers
don’t tremble until you step away
surfacing for a breath.

You dab her cheek dry
as your body aches to lift her
and simply float away from it all
as you listen through the equipment,
the ventilator’s terrifying whoosh
pray the gasp in the wave is hers
as you grasp at the faintest moan
and dare to call it her own.

You weather as hope ebbs and flows
in her foggy eyes until she nods
recognizing your voice, and you finally know
her tide might return to you -- again.