Sunday, February 7, 2010
Nursing Home
Those silent wheelchairs stalk the quiet hall,
some moving slowly, others not at all.
Yet every single one contains a face,
a wrinkled, careworn soul who’s now a case
to study, care for, wash and sometimes groom
in private space unlike their former room
at home where everything familiar stood
around them looking bright and young and good,
reminding them of lives they’d mostly had
before their limbs grew weak and outlook sad.
Expressions say a lot to clue us in
about their thoughts. Some patients even grin
and say hello, while others seem to be
in still another place that we can’t see.
It’s hard to watch this scene, but caring staff
look after them with love to help them laugh
(sometimes), applying something more than skill
and coaxing them to work beyond their will
to just once more exceed their state and try
an extra day their status to belie.
One morning little kids came in to sing,
a simple-sounding, entertaining thing,
pre-schoolers all, their scrubbed and shiny faces
bent on bringing Christmas cheer to places
in our minds not used to innocence.
Their songs and gestures lacking all pretense
gave little hint that some of them one day
might find a waiting wheelchair as their pay.
The lyrics weren’t the least bit hard to follow,
but some of us then found it tough to swallow.
some moving slowly, others not at all.
Yet every single one contains a face,
a wrinkled, careworn soul who’s now a case
to study, care for, wash and sometimes groom
in private space unlike their former room
at home where everything familiar stood
around them looking bright and young and good,
reminding them of lives they’d mostly had
before their limbs grew weak and outlook sad.
Expressions say a lot to clue us in
about their thoughts. Some patients even grin
and say hello, while others seem to be
in still another place that we can’t see.
It’s hard to watch this scene, but caring staff
look after them with love to help them laugh
(sometimes), applying something more than skill
and coaxing them to work beyond their will
to just once more exceed their state and try
an extra day their status to belie.
One morning little kids came in to sing,
a simple-sounding, entertaining thing,
pre-schoolers all, their scrubbed and shiny faces
bent on bringing Christmas cheer to places
in our minds not used to innocence.
Their songs and gestures lacking all pretense
gave little hint that some of them one day
might find a waiting wheelchair as their pay.
The lyrics weren’t the least bit hard to follow,
but some of us then found it tough to swallow.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
V-Day
What special day is almost here?
A time to honor those most dear.
We look around and note the hate,
the wars, dissension and debate
to settle squabbles large and small
as if they mattered much at all.
We lose perspective and decry
our differences, though we could try
to see humanity as if we were
but one, and doing so prefer
an end to suffering of all kinds—
each other’s blessed valentines.
A time to honor those most dear.
We look around and note the hate,
the wars, dissension and debate
to settle squabbles large and small
as if they mattered much at all.
We lose perspective and decry
our differences, though we could try
to see humanity as if we were
but one, and doing so prefer
an end to suffering of all kinds—
each other’s blessed valentines.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Education
“I feel thoroughly cold,” said the old guy through chattering teeth.
“A mere sweater won’t do it for you. What’s that bulging beneath?”
“Oh, that’s yesterday’s paper. The Sentinel helps--and one comic
strip guy I especially like makes it plain how ironic
these crazy times are when we layer ourselves in the news,
good or bad, and then sit on the best editorial views.”
“Say, just where do you live?” I inquired. “Is it quite far from here?”
“Down the street, on the right,” he replied. “It’s not warm though, I fear.
Two or three of us huddle together outside and swap stories
of times when we ate pretty well and our young families
had nice holiday gifts, get-togethers--and even a tree.”
“Things have taken a turn for the worse, I can easily see,”
I told him. “Take my coat, if it fits you, and then in return
you can give me those funnies. There’s always some new thing to learn.”
“I feel thoroughly cold,” said the old guy through chattering teeth.
“A mere sweater won’t do it for you. What’s that bulging beneath?”
“Oh, that’s yesterday’s paper. The Sentinel helps--and one comic
strip guy I especially like makes it plain how ironic
these crazy times are when we layer ourselves in the news,
good or bad, and then sit on the best editorial views.”
“Say, just where do you live?” I inquired. “Is it quite far from here?”
“Down the street, on the right,” he replied. “It’s not warm though, I fear.
Two or three of us huddle together outside and swap stories
of times when we ate pretty well and our young families
had nice holiday gifts, get-togethers--and even a tree.”
“Things have taken a turn for the worse, I can easily see,”
I told him. “Take my coat, if it fits you, and then in return
you can give me those funnies. There’s always some new thing to learn.”
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Psych Students: This is #1; read & scroll to #2
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Prayer
I put my hands together and enjoy the way it feels.
I sense His presence strongly then, and know
that I'm connecting with a power that heals.
My fingers are antennas, clasped just so
or palm to palm, and bathing in his love
my faith is stronger--as it should be when
I open up my heart and thereby shove
all doubts away. I'm much more peaceful then.
As simple as it sounds I still desire
to learn the complicated physics there.
His laws of universal truth inspire
my curiosity. I'm quite aware
I ask a lot. Perhaps too much...but see?
To search is how he fashioned me to be.
I sense His presence strongly then, and know
that I'm connecting with a power that heals.
My fingers are antennas, clasped just so
or palm to palm, and bathing in his love
my faith is stronger--as it should be when
I open up my heart and thereby shove
all doubts away. I'm much more peaceful then.
As simple as it sounds I still desire
to learn the complicated physics there.
His laws of universal truth inspire
my curiosity. I'm quite aware
I ask a lot. Perhaps too much...but see?
To search is how he fashioned me to be.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
The Last Rose of Summer
I watch the shadows lengthen every day
and wonder if the crispness of the morn
will make it hard to straighten up the way
I did when every eager bud was born.
The warmth and cheer of summer green and bright
emboldened me to do my best to share
my modest gifts with anyone who might
come by to stare and gulp the evening air.
But as the days grow short and leaves turn brown
I find it tougher to stand tall and proud--
and harder to gaze up than down.
Of course, surrendering is not allowed.
Besides, I’d like to linger just a while
and make another careworn person smile.
and wonder if the crispness of the morn
will make it hard to straighten up the way
I did when every eager bud was born.
The warmth and cheer of summer green and bright
emboldened me to do my best to share
my modest gifts with anyone who might
come by to stare and gulp the evening air.
But as the days grow short and leaves turn brown
I find it tougher to stand tall and proud--
and harder to gaze up than down.
Of course, surrendering is not allowed.
Besides, I’d like to linger just a while
and make another careworn person smile.
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