I told you how I was praying for you.
You said you’d message me after you heard.
I could see in your strong eyes you meant to.
Several days have passed by without a word.
That’s okay as long as you’re okay. I’m
simply grateful to see you, to spend time
talking, though nearly brief as a ballad,
to study your smile, your glance away, climb
with you toward hope. Like a pilot who’s glad
we’re all alive, I look around the room,
count the brave souls one by one. Was it bad,
the needle or knife? I just know I fell
to my knees, appealing for benign cells.
Roger Armbrust
July 8, 2011
