A Poem to Remember the Next Time You Visit a Nursing Home
Recently, Ron and Don Williams presented some material the congregation where I serve as an elder. They provided some valuable information for people who are dealing with some diseases that most of us dread; specifically, cancer and various forms of dementia. The information was helpful for those who suffer from one of those diseases and for their caregivers.
During one of his presentations, Don read the poem I am reproducing below. According to the information he provided, the poem was written by an elderly woman in a nursing home in Ireland and was found among her things when she died.
With Don’s permission, I am sharing the poem with you. I am praying that, like me, you will find it helpful and thought-provoking.
SEE ME
What do you see nurses, what do you see?
Are you thinking when you look at me
A crabby old woman, not very wise,
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply?
When you say with a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try”
And forever is losing a sock or a shoe.
Who unresisting or not, lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill,
Is that what you think? Is that what you see?
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, and eat at your will.
I’m a small child of ten, with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters who loved one another,
A young girl of 16, with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet.
A bride soon at 20, my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At 25 now, I have young of my own,
Who need me to build a secure, happy home.
A woman of 30, my young now grow so fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last.
At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.
At 50 once more babies play around 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 and shudder with dread.
For my young are rearing young of their own,
And I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.
I’m an old woman now and nature is cruel,
Tis her 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 and I remember the pain,
And I’m living and loving life over again.
I think of the years all too few – gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
Open your eyes, nurse, open and see,
not an empty old woman, look closer – see ME.
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AUTHOR: Jim Faughn
