I cared for you even before we met.
As letters meandering the page
sketched the contours of a portrait,
I looked forward to meeting you.
As I enter the room,
I sense a fragrance of time past,
of struggles endured years before–
silent whispers of a mind’s unrest
reflected through misted eyes.
As we talk,
of a soul’s facade you steadily disrobe.
Words of suffering and pain, joy and pride-
each syllable a silvered twine
weaving your life’s story.
I examine you.
that fulcrum deeply hinged.
A bittersweet thrum
of a battery strong but worn.
that which sing
their own melodious song,
a lulling carol
invigorated with each exhale.
From there a journey it becomes
to strengthen you, to make you whole.
A disease conquered, a valley bridged.
A hollow filled, a life restored.
We work together.
As ripples in a wake,
your life affects mine,
for the same heart that aches
when you suffer
rejoices with you
in your victories.
Because this is what I treasure–
the chance to care for you,
to walk with you.
It is a privilege.
So thank you for letting me.
Fragments of moons past
sketch silhouettes of
a scenery divine.
A daytime reverie.
A granddaughter missing you.
Do you recall, grandma?
Long ago, a grandbaby born
into an era of bitter lack,
that enriched by your presence,
renewed to an age of precious worth?
Do you suffer, grandma?
Parted by spanning seas,
my tears diffuse beneath the rain.
Had I a wish and a dove I became,
my wings would span,
sealing the distance between us.
Do you remember me, grandma?
Though the crook of time
has stolen your sight,
stripped your mind,
blunted your strength,
with a heavy heart
I still see you as before-
with beauty so simple,
love so pure
a nightingale’s lament.
So fear not the season’s change, grandma,
nor the graying sun,
the silvering stream-
as the end of the road
will glisten a rainbow,
and the mists of tomorrow
will clear away your fog.
And then I will again be your grandbaby.
A love unknown…
The search for strength…
“…You are a doctor to many,
but an angel you have been to me
who encouraged, cared, and healed my pain,
and a light you made me see.
I am sad that you are no longer my doc
but am glad that you are my friend.
And I hope we can keep in touch
until the very end…”
Allow me to spin upon the spindle
a tale of an encounter true.
A patient once, a homeless mum,
her words now shared with you:
The hour of autumn arrives anew
when mirth and feasts abound.
But let me confess my days to you,
true gifts which have been found…
The steady cadence of my heart,
voice to praise when souls fall dark,
vision to behold each fresh day’s start-
For this, I am thankful.
The assured exhale of every breath,
joys gone by, its memories kept,
cloth to shield from winter’s death-
For this, I am thankful
Days when I can veil my cries,
days I look you in the eyes,
to know on night lies brighter skies-
For this, I am thankful.
So for this…I am thankful.