The Care Station
(denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and
acceptance)
I didn’t deny their existence,
But I tried to pretend they were normal people
Just waiting for a bus
Or for their ride.
I’d make eye contact,
Nod, and say “Hello”.
Then I was angry
That I had to go through these bizarre people
Yelling out meaningless grunts,
With crossed arms slapping their upper arms,
Saying “Mother, are we going to be all right?”
Over and over.
Then I thought
I just need to get to my mom’s room
So I’ll just skirt and flit
Through them all
Without looking at them.
I’d look at the gaps between them.
But they didn’t hold up
Their end of the bargain.
They’d reach for me
Or sleep in wide mouthed stillness
That scared me into wondering
If they had passed on.
Now I address them
At least a nod with eye contact
Imagining their former lives.
If nothing else I match them up
With the their names that are posted
On the rooms where they are stowed at night.
albi
Copyright 2003, 2004