I dread the visit
This isn’t the place for introductions
A new great grand child, little Tilly
Though she’ll never remember today
I will.
It’s the atmosphere of living amongst
The piss, the shit, the dying and the dead
Each having his own struggle with
Fear, confusion, disorientation and numbness.
And that’s it are we living or existing
Filling in time before they fill it in on us.
The child is divine, perfect in every way
So much the image of my own daughter
It is through the eyes of the young that
We get to see what has become of us
What we leave behind, if anything.
The child Tilly squirms in my arms
Settles and looks up at me
Into the face of a wizened old crone.
‘Forgive me child I don’t look my best
My looks disappeared so long ago
Now I’m old but so pleased you stopped by.
Be gentle on yourself, there is so much out there
To worry over, so go steady
Love and live, care and be grateful
Life is precious, nurture it always.
They stayed a while longer than I thought
Then gathered the child,
I kissed her one last time
Watched as they exited my confined world
And stepped into the tangle of the new world
Where the child would make her way
In times unknown, mystery abounding
Love I hope always at the ready.
I lay back in my bed
I close my eyes as the evening stench
Seeps and oozes its way into my room
Where no amount of air freshener
Makes the slightest difference.
Outside I watch the world happen
Inside I feel it dying.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2015/12/22/photo-challenge-92-december-22-2015/
Those last lines are brilliant and heart-wrenching. Very powerful piece some of your best writing
Thank you so much Yves, so much of it was based around my memories of my dad in the nursing home.Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas Michael (hugs)
Incredibly powerful writing!
Thank you so much Carol. Merry Christmas to you.
To you also! 🙂
My great grandmother died in her house — but there was a particular smell of death to the place that clung to my sweaters and clings to my memories.
Such a poignant response. Seasons, cycles, life.
Thank you my friend, even three years after my father died I can still recall the smells of the nursing home…..Merry Christmas to you…
Thanks so much for your response to the prompt Michael 🙂
Clearly you have dug very deeply and turned the pain and wealth of the sensory overload, as well as the questions we face – those in the throes of dying, whether lingering or not, as well as those left behind – who are direct witness, and in turn, will too, face our own moments …. and you have created a story so profound and moving. The incredible sensitivity and truthfulness with which you have written this piece Michael, is a testament to the person you are – reflective, insightful, yet still willing to embrace life – to see all the sides … and I have to agree with Yves – this is one of your most breathtaking pieces.
You have some very powerful images stirring about here – and these lines:
And that’s it are we living or existing
Filling in time before they fill it in on us.
Watched as they exited my confined world
And stepped into the tangle of the new world
they are totally amazingly sensitive –
brilliantly written Michael 🙂
Happy Holidays to you and yours 🙂
Cheers ~ Pat
Thank you so much Pat you are as always very generous in your comments.
I hope you have a great Christmas as well….