An accident in utero
left you outside in
and your life outside became destined
for tubes and oscillators.

Your mother on the outside -
We call her in
but she can’t see what we see.

If I could see outside
what would I see?
Tears. Prayers.
I try to invite her in.
I ask her about the scripture
on the wall of your room.

Specialists on the outside
keep coming in
to pronounce you dead.
We see through each other.

I can't help but feel
that I’m the outsider.

Like a lighthouse
guiding a ship into the harbor,
but never touching the water myself.