Three bumps, none large,
succession of each
tosses you the way a kid
hurls a rock over a bridge.

Holding on for life you,
neck broken, body paralyzed,
I leap like a flying squirrel
limb to limb tracing your path.

You relearn basic skills—
swallow, eat, speak,
use a grip like fingers,
navigate tight corners in your wheelchair.

Gone are deep muscle massages,
hip to hip bear hugs,
manly grabs squeezing,
intertwined legs rubbing.

Once indestructible,
you now vulnerable,
emergency room routine,
lifts, ramps, here and everywhere.

Prior plans a memory,
throw in my cancer diagnosis,
unexpected live-in nurse,
external grace masks internal cracks.

Still, your eyes glint,
smile thaws ice,
featherweight fingertips
tickle my forearm.

Navigating with
determination, grace
inspiring all,
especially me

Passing the spot where bumps
hurled us onto
a different path we move on,
fumbling, together.