Casualty Treasure Map

the ticking clock in triage
doesn't mean much
there is no guarantee
we wait

We hear her behind one of the many closed doors
patients only
crying


I have been here many times
waiting, and listening
but she is small and unprepared
and looking for her little sister

So we try to beat the ticking tock
we paint our nails purple
and drink pink milkshakes
pretending not to feel rocks in our stomachs
we look though First Words treasure hunt book
story time, spot two magic wands, and a mermaid,
a superhero and a map
she forgets how long we've waited
she sees only the colours and the details
tracing them, with her purple tipped index finger
I see dry earth in winter sunlight
not the white walls and wheelchairs
we are collectively, momentarily
apart from the tired of waiting, dark eyed making ward.