Age makes destruction of minds–
stubborn machines.
Word salad is served with weather,
hooks to passing signals in the stratosphere.
L., in her 90s, leopard skin top,
no bottoms, one over the knee valentine’s sock,
speaks sunshine and storm in the same breath.
She is looking for Ohio in Texas
not knowing what state she’s in
or room.
T., is stalked by the devil,
paces the hall in fear,
wants to explain but can’t.
A fist forms as his eyes cry out,
“Get me out of here!”
S., shouts obscenities,
demands his dead wife help him,
rises and falls from his wheelchair,
is caught before he is floored by reality
and physical pain.
Nurses hold hands with despair,
serve gentleness with sedation,
talk to the lights within.
Storms blow over, devils disappear.
Mother is waiting in the next room
to tuck them in.
A smile emerges through the clouds.
Compassion is the language
always understood.
Nurse Appreciation Poem copyright 2012 Belinda Subraman