Too Often Forgotten by Trudy Bosman
The old lady sat, with head bent low
She wished there was some place to go
She watched others enjoy visits and then
She sighed and bent her head again
He sat by the TV, not really seeing
No one really cared how he was feeling
He thought of his daughter and son
But he was never visited by anyone
Once they had lived a busy life
Caring for children, husband or wife
They had lots of friends to go here or there
But now there was no one going anywhere
They were forgotten, sitting alone
Hoping for a call on the phone
It would take just a moment to say “hello”,
A touch of a hand to let them know
They are remembered, someone cares,
Talk of the life that once was theirs
It doesn’t matter if you know them
what's important is the love you show them
Erasure poem
the old lady
watched others enjoy visits
sighed and bent her head
he sat by the tv
thought of his daughter and son
he was never visited by anyone
they were forgotten
alone
When visiting my great Aunt in a nursing home many years ago I have never forgotten the look of those who never had visitors.I used to bring lots of treats for everyone but took her out into the garden because I found it unbearable. Fortunately she was mobile She was a darling and I miss her terribly. We live in a very cruel uncaring society where the most vulnerable are not valued and treated as expendable A thank you to Trudy Bosman for her very fine poem and inspiring this erasure poem and Friday Writings for the prompt
This is so important - reaching out to those who seem to have been forgotten in the mad rush that we've made out of life.
ReplyDeleteI love both the source poem and your erasure version – poignant! I feel so lucky to still be active and independent, and to have people around who care about me.
ReplyDeleteSadly, as we grow older our world grows narrower, and your poem tugs the heartstrings!
ReplyDeleteThe one thing I knew after my Mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's ... that I would NEVER leave her, abandon her. I would see to it that the years she had left would be as good as they could possibly be. And I know they were. Thanks for this lovely poem!!!
ReplyDeleteYour erasure poem is heartbreaking in its reality. Like you mention in the note, the world can be ruthless and uncaring when it comes to those who need it most. I've seen the looks I describe. Before the pandemic, I used to lead a blackout poetry group at a local senior center. We still exchange messages online, and that is good... but not enough.
ReplyDeleteMy wife's father has late-stage Alzheimers; he's been in memory care but broke his hip in a fall (again) and is now in rehab, a much sadder, grittier place. My wife visits him several times a week and comes home crying. There's a guy who shares his room who is sweet and nice and fastidious and calls his loved ones asking to come home but has to stay. It's heartbreaking.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure it's the worst way to go, alone, forgotten, and not at home.
ReplyDeleteThanks for writing about this, Cressida. I worked in a seniors' facility and know well what you mean about how elders sit around, no visits, lonely, young people rushing around, too busy. And now I am a senior myself. Thankfully I have online. People dont realize what a wealth of history we have lived, and the stories we could share.
ReplyDeleteSuper blog
ReplyDeleteA poignant and heartbreaking expression of some of our elders. I hope to not be numbered among the forgotten ones.
ReplyDelete