Wednesday, January 16, 2008

A Poem from the Glass Half Empty

We are born naked, wet, and hungry.
And then it gets worse.

I can't take credit for this bit of humor; I received it in an email this morning and roared with laughter! It seems to sum up my life lately. I'm not a glass-half-full kind of girl, and frankly, I get annoyed with overly sunny people. I'm a creative sort, and if I didn't have my dark side, I'd never have anything to write about. For example, here is the poem I wrote after my mother's death:

For Mother

We did as you asked,
took away the tubes, the green
monitors and finger sticks,
moved to a tranquil spot
across the hall. No roommate.
We held hands as you prayed
a long prayer of your own,
fed you pudding, ice chips,
salted greens, and two sugar wafers.

We did as you asked,
signed—then we cried, held you
to the last. Bathed your forehead
with Dove soap. Kept the morphine
coming and counted your breaths.
You took your time, let us know
things we needed to know.
We cleaned your room today,
found two sugar wafers.
Your last meal.

I don't think a Suzy Sunshine could have written that, much less felt it the way I did. So I'll take my naked, wet, hungry ass any old day! I like being me.

It's another busy day, without even time for crossword puzzles this morning. Too much going on. Maybe tonight.

Peace - D

1 comment:

Heather said...

I'm right there with you, hon! I hate that "flowery, trying to make you feel better" crap. I remember being at the funeral home after Dad died and my favorite aunt saying, "He looks so good. He looks like he's taking a nap."

I lashed out at her and said, "He doesn't look good! He looks dead! Not sleeping, not napping, not natural, but dead."

Yeah, I'm right there with you.