Care

High-backed chairs around the walls
Frame their faces,
A gallery of despair.
Daytime TV droning daily
Offering tips
On cooking and hair.
Care workers lift, soothe, wipe,
Meaning well
Distribute stewed grey tea
Use my first name too loudly
Like old friends in hell.
But they don't know me.
I have always been old to their young eyes,
An empty shell is what they see,
They dress and bathe my body
But they don't touch me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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Bickerstaffe Avatar
January 9, 2009 at 10:03 AM
Brilliant! ...I used to be a nursing home administrator. It was our job to care with dignity. It takes a special kind of nurse to work with geriatrics, but I fear there are some old folks who ARE treated casually and with disdain. Best wishes, Keith
Ziemer Avatar
January 7, 2009 at 12:08 PM
Great imagery sweetheart and very well written, good job and keep up the good work.
Richards Avatar
January 5, 2009 at 1:03 PM
This one hits hard....so real, the picture of a care home...quite often it's so true...they care for the body, but not the person. Well said...very well done! ~ Carrie
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