How It Began and Other Poems

How It Began

I will try to tell you how it was for me.
I can’t know how it was for her.
She called. Her voice was bruised
with fear. Before that, there were signs,
but we didn’t know they were signs.
I was sitting on a blue couch
a few hundred miles from home.
I held a cup of tea. She told me
she’d jolted awake with her heart stampeding.
No, she would have said pounding. Or maybe
racing. What people say. I knew
how to help her breathe. I breathed
with her, deep, slow inhale and
long, longer exhale. I focused on that.
Oh, honey, I said, you don’t want
to go there. Let’s turn this around.
But I’ve always believed too much
in my own will. I knew.
And didn’t know.
Or didn’t want to know I knew.
Though I could feel the floor’s slight pitch.
We were in for a long, long voyage
without a chance to grab even
an orange or comb my hair.

Want to read the rest?
Please login.
New to Narrative? sign up.
It's easy and free.
The password field is case sensitive. Account & Password Help.