when the fever finally broke, i reached for you.
i extended my (now firm) hand for you.
you were covered in dust; you were shivering and emancipated. you hadn’t seen light in years.
so, i bathed you, i fed you, i combed and braided your unkempt hair, and i opened a window.
the light came in.
the light came in.
all this time later, and you survived.
your eyes watered at the sight of the light.
you thought it’d never return, but it did. and you, so glad you held on.