This poem I write after visiting the nursing home and seeing so many that just seemed to live within themselves, all alone, no one to care. I would take my boys to the local nursing home to visit, asking for the ones that had no visitors. My boys would go all over the room hugging them and talking to them and seeing the people’s faces light up with joy. Many thought their grandchildren had come to visit. I think this is why my boys who are grown men now are so compassionate and loving.
I took my kindergarten class to sing for them one year. It was lovely but what touched my heart was this one woman as I walked by her grabbed my arm and started calling me by another name from long ago. She thought I was her daughter and asked me why I did not wear the dress she sent me. I told her it was because it was at the cleaners. She seemed content with that. She held my hand and stroked my arm and talked to me the whole time and was so thrilled that I was there. I learned later that her daughter brought her, dropped her off and never returned to visit her again. I wanted to cry. She would tell everyone that walked by that I was her daughter and I would just smile. I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek when we left and told her I loved her. She died shortly after that and it always touched my heart and this is when I wrote this poem.
A Place Within
With soles worn and body weak
traipsing along well-worn trails
Gnarled knees and a twisted back
And a mind full of human tales
A path framed with rolling grass
Empty of human voice
Desolate to the ordinary man
But tis his only choice
Eyes that see only inner sights
Ears that hear the past
Lips devoid of any sound
And a body that can not last
The creaking rocker slows to a halt
Closed eyelids flicker in pain
A hand fluttering to his chest
As he returns to the rolling plain
© danLrene 1996
One of the things that taught me to always treat others how I wanted to be treated. That has never left me.