Something in her
Sees before she’s told.
It’s not even a full minute
Since I hung up with her father
Hearing hard news
That she’s out of bed.
“I’m seeing them again,” she says.
“I close my eyes and they’re close,
And then far away.
They’re people but all of these points of light.
I can’t sleep.
When I close my eyes, they’re there.”
Eventually she falls asleep in my arms,
Rainbow Bear safe in hers.
My logical brain always fights it
(I can reason she’s only seeing things,
As she did once before,
At the beginning of another illness,
When clearly her feverish eyes
Saw something in the tall mirror of my dresser
That I could not,
And that this time
This hateful stomach bug
Making its final departure)
But I can’t help but think
Another angel’s been added to her team.
This one seems to have put up quite a fight.