My daughter wrote a poem for a school project yesterday. She based it on a newspaper article about elderly couples who find themselves becoming separated by age and illness, and the inability to find nursing homes that will house them together, ending with inevitable heartbreak. The article outlines one organization which is trying to fill this societal gap, and one couple’s experience with their struggle. You can view the article here.
My girl is 14.
~
THANK GOD WE FOUND THIS PLACE
Mika Hamilton
Opening your arms
in gesture of mending
hearts. Looking into your
eyes; burning timber
gleaming,
with which to light a
new fire.
Like root and stalk,
lust and strife, key
and lock. You carry
the spark to my flame,
you are the knees to my
legs and the spine to my
head. “My love, abide
with me, set our troubled
hearts at ease.”
Standing beneath the
stars; dancing in the blue
and violet threads of night,
foraging the still-life
swish of moon-white glow
cracked in the aftermath
of a stuttering smile. She
aptly replied with a breath
you can swank.
And so our love goes on,
hand over hand, night and day
songbirds phrase. Neumes
at roosted melody
incipits to a new song
soaked in reverie.
Seventy three years we’ve been
together now. Cell by cell
your frame is becoming a
shell, emotions trapped
in a barely-moving
body.
This dire disease already
told me the droning truth
that intones a note of
doom; divorce.
Unwanted cadence swam
whispering through my veins
that the saddest fear of losing
you is creeping in.
The silence we speak is
louder than bombs. Feeling
holes in my stomach
caving in from a vexed
bond.
Cowering in my slumber,
there’s a prayer stuck in
my throat waiting in loves
rubble; don’t take her away
from me, don’t let this be
the end.
Thank god we found this place.
Where i can be under the same
roof as you. A home where care
meets the needs of this
love-eating disease.
Everything from world war to
a recent heart attack, and the
fire is still burning. Thank god
we found this place.
Just remember, when
you go what you leave
is a work of art, on
my chest, on my
heart.
Without you, there is no
more light. Fire;
withdrawn, vying grief
for flame.
So douse me in gasoline
and strike a match, roan
blood; red with dew
because how could
my life ever last so
rich with me and
dense with you.