Bjorn hosts Meeting the Bar in the Poets Pub today. Our prompt: write from a different perspective than we usually do ~ challenge ourselves with something new ~ I published a version of this poem in April 2010 .. I would categorize it as 'first person with observation of others' ~ going to rewrite, using second person perspective this time around.
you watch as their day
comes to a close
you can't help but feel
tenderness in the moment
you see the endless shuffling
of bodies and souls
some steady on their own
some pushed in wheeled chairs
you follow their familiar journey to a room
they may not remember in the morning
you wonder if he or she will be there tomorrow
the thought lingers longer than you'd like
you realize how deeply you've grown to care
how attached you've become
how much of yourself you leave with them
This is beautiful, Helen. I also love the Pooh illustration.
ReplyDeleteThis is so compassionate a poem, Helen. I feel your heart.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Helen. We do become attached to those we work and connect with on a daily basis.
ReplyDeleteWhat a tender and insightful reflection (The end of Winnie the Pooh always makes me cry) - Jae
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful touching poem. I love that you set it off with Pooh and Piglet ending their day, shuffling off, as a bear of little brain, but a bit too much around the tum, would. I wonder, if it were me, would I want to be there in the morning, if I didn't know where I was, or if I'd rather not be there come tomorrow? All so sad, but you made it beautiful from the perspective of caregivers.
ReplyDeleteHeartfelt and deeply touching, Helen. Your poem reminds me of visits to my mother after my sister put her in a home. I’m welling up as I type.
ReplyDeleteA casual visitor to a care home might not realise the extent and balm, of the love that develops between carers and their charges, or that, however much of the person is faded away, the carers carry what is left away with them - I know this from my partner who was a carer in her latter career - beautifully put, Helen...
ReplyDeleteThis is a change I have seen in older relatives... alas it will happen to many of us as well
ReplyDelete...and how much you'll lose.
ReplyDeleteThis is deeply heartfelt and poignant, Helen. Your poem reminds me of my father in his last remaining months ... sigh.
ReplyDeleteI was my father's guardian for about four years, until he passed away at 92 last April. The whole time I was caring for him, he slowly forgot who I was and there were times when it was so hard to keep going knowing that he didn't even know me. There was always that one glimmer or feeling that something inside of him knew who I was, that I was safe, and that I was taking care of him. Now, that I don't have him to take care of I mourn those days of watching him question the world around him. I didn't think I would be this affected by his death, feeling like he almost died a long time ago, when he really knew me, but it is really hard not having him here.
ReplyDeleteso poignant. every day could be the last.
ReplyDeleteWow, this is such a powerful and beautifully tender rewrite. Switching to the second person perspective really pulls the reader right into that moment of observation and deep connection. You can feel the quietness, the love, and the lingering sense of worry in that "familiar journey to a room." It's incredibly moving how you captured the weight of caregiving and the tenderness in those final lines. Beautiful work for Bjorn's challenge. I’ve just shared a new travel post, and I’m really excited for you to read it. How is your Saturday going?
ReplyDeleteSo much compassion and truth in this poem, Helen.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully expressed full of love and terribly sad. https://rallentanda.blogspot.com/2025/10/friday-writings-198-poets-and-story.html . There is a little tribute to you in this poem . Priscilla picked it.! :)
ReplyDelete“how much of yourself you leave with them”
ReplyDeleteThat last line is especially poignant.