Sunday, August 14, 2005

Crabby Old Woman

Crabby Old Woman

What do you see, nurses?
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman,
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food
And makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice,
"I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice
The things that you do,
And forever is losing
A stocking or shoe?
Who, resisting or not,
Lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am
As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten
With a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters,
Who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen
With wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet.
A  bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows
That I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now,
I have young of my own,
Who need me to guide
And a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other
With ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons
Have grown and are gone,
But my man's beside me
To see I don't mourn.
At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee,
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead,
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing
Young of their own,
And I think of the years
And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old woman
And nature is cruel;
'Tis jest to make old age
Look like a fool.
The  body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again,
My battered heart swells.
I remember the joys,
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.
I think of the years
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.
So, open your eyes, people,
Open and see,
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer . . . see ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within...we will all, one day, be there too!

1 comment:

tendernoggle said...

I have started at the beginning of your journal and have read all the way to here...and I am so glad I did...this poem is so beautiful and true....my mom is in the first stages of alzheimers and I had to place her in a nursing home a year ago this month....This poem made me think of her... I know what a wonderful person she use to be, but those that care for her never knew that person....Thanks so much for sharing this with us..I only pray that it will open some eyes!
You have a wonderful journal that could very well be a best seller.
Carlene
http://journals.aol.com/tendernoggle/HORSESHOEBEND/