The call split our life and changed how we measure time.
Our new measure; before accident and after accident.
The woman on the other end of the phone, a nurse,
Ripping our hearts out bit by bit with each word she utters.
"Car accident" "Bleed in her brain" "Life support"
"Critical condition" "ICU"
I make the words leave my throat,
I don't know how my mouth utters them,
How my lips formed them,
"Will she die?"
The nurse says "no", hesitantly;
I tell her we are on the way.
Flying around the house, gathering for the trip;
But what to gather?
Run! Hurry! Make phone calls!
Crying! Screaming! Frantic!
The phone rings again; the nurse again.
Someone has made her call back.
"I mispoke; critical condition means we don't know if..."
Who decreed this on us, for what reason?
Why, oh why, God, why?