Too Soon Old

I've been spending a fair amount of time in senior residences/nursing homes lately, and I can't help but feel for the elders sitting patiently - or not so patiently - as people bustle by them, as though they are invisible. I love this poem -- it reminds us that inside every aged, wrinkled body is a youthful soul who has lived, loved -- and still does.

What do you see nurses? .. . . .. . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . When you're looking at me?
A crabby old man . . . .. . Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit . . . . . With faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . .. . . . And makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice . . . . .. The things that you do.
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or a 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 boy of Sixteen . .. . . With wings on his feet.
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . A lover he'll meet.
A groom 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 . .. . . . And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty . . . . . My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . Have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me . . . . . To see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more, babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future . .... . . . Shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing . .. . . . Young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man . . . . ... And nature is cruel.
Tis 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 guy 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 too fast.
And accept the stark fact . .. . . That nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . Open and see.
Not a crabby old man . . . Look closer . . . See ME!!


- Dave Griffith