NurseSheGirl

I’m living now from breath to breath,
Through these hours that feel like death.
I count the minutes as they crawl,
And tell myself, survive them all.

A wave comes crashing overhead,
With everything I wish you’d said.
It pulls me under, cold and deep,
Through memories that I meant to keep.

I fight my way toward open air,
Still reaching out though you’re not there.
My lungs are burning, chest pulled tight,
But somehow I come up all right.

And then another finds the shore,
And knocks me underneath once more.
I swallow grief, I taste the pain,
And wonder if I’ll breathe again.

But something strange begins to change,
The waves still come, but farther range.
A minute passes, maybe two,
Before the water brings back you.

Then minutes stretch into an hour,
And somehow sorrow loses power.
Not gone, not healed, not swept away,
Just slightly easier today.

I’m learning how to let it hurt,
To wash across me, then disperse.
To miss you without bothering you,
To breathe despite what grief can do.

Some waves still rise above my head,
Still fill my heart with aching dread.
But every time I reach the blue,
I cling to hope, while missing you.

So minute by minute, hour by hour,
I’m finding something close to power.
Not in forgetting what we knew,
But learning how to breathe pain through.

And someday waves will reach my feet,
Their roaring softened to a beat.
I’ll watch them break upon the shore,
Where they can’t drown me anymore.