A Poem
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
use 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, nurses, open and see, not a crabby old woman; look closer — see
ME!!
~~~o~~~
Remember this poem when you next meet an old person.
We will one day be there too.
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