an insular world
of emotional instability
and impulsivity.
I live with
the possibility that
the illness
will overpower
the meds
and she'll do something
impetuous
and unintentionally
tragic.
Most nights,
as I make
my final rounds,
set the house alarm,
and walk up
the darkened stairs,
I see the light
from under her door.
Maybe she's awake
and her mind is racing.
Maybe she fell asleep
with the lights on.
I'm just grateful
I know where she is
and that she's safe.
