Dear sister.

How I want to watch you sleep.
Held in Father’s arms
In temporary bliss.
 
Thousands of miles,
Undeserving miles you traveled
For red blotches and horrified
         stares.
At least you were immune to touch.

Now, 
Now you lie atop muted sheets
Observed by surgical masks,
Scrutinized by that pesky
Pulse monitor in ten-minute intervals
through unworthy nights.
Beeping, beating, breathing.

(You must know:
LIJ is no place for angels.)

But hold, my sister, hold – 
Refuse to hang, by however many threads, 
From the perniciousness of
An initial blood test.
Grasp fierce sickness with greater ferocity 
And untangle the diseased noose. 

Then release into health.

For we are suspended in your
           balance
Awaiting your recovery, 
Awaiting you. We hold. We hold.
We hold.