I have had this for quite a while and don't really remember where I got it, But it bears thinking about.
Last year when an old lady died in the Geriatric Ward of a small hospital in Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had left nothing of any value. Later, when the nurses were going through her meager possesions, they found this poem. It's quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the Hospital. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in many magazines and a slide presentation has been made on her simple, but eloquent poem. It is proof that we all leave some "footprints" in the world.
An Old Lady's Poem
What do you see, nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you're looking at me?
A crabby, Old woman , not very wise,
Uncertain of habit with faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply?
When you say in an loud voice, " I do wish you'd try !
Who seems not to notice the things that you do,
and forever is losing a stocking or shoe!
Who, resisting or not,lets you do as you will...
with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.
Is that what you're thinking? is that what you see?
Then 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 do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten...with a father and mother,
brothers and sisters who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon, a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty- my heart gives a leap,
remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At twenty five now, I have young of my own.
who need me to guide them and make them a home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other, with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons are grown and have gone,
But my man is beside me to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, babies play at 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, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing young of thier own,
and I think of the years and the love I have known.
I'm now an old woman...and nature is cruel:
it's 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, I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living life over again.
I think of the years...all too few, gone to fast,
and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.
So open your eyes nurses ! Open and see
Not a crabby old woman,,,, Look closer...see me.
Remember this poem when you next might meet an old person, who you might brush aside without looking at the soul within. We too, will all be there someday.
|
