RABBIT
LD
OMAN
"Old Woman" by Manet
Who is really inside?
When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a hospital in England, it appeared she had left nothing of value. The nurse, packing up her possessions, found this poem.
The quality so impressed the staff that copies were distributed to all the nurses in the hospital.
This poem then later appeared in the Christmas edition of "Beacon House News," a magazine of the Northern Ireland Mental Health Association.
THIS WAS THE LADY'S BEQUEST FOR POSTERITY!
What do you see nurse,
A crabbit old woman,
Who dribbles her food Who seems not to notice Unresisting or not, Is that what you're thinking,
I'll tell you who I am, I'm a small child of ten ... A girl of sixteen,
At twenty-five, A woman of thirty,
At forty, my young ones
Dark days are upon me, For my young are all rearing,
I am an old woman now, The body, it crumbles,
But inside this old carcass, I remember the joys,
I think of the years ... So open your eyes nurses, See
Poem by Phyllis McCormack
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you look at me?
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With far away eyes
And makes no reply;
Then you say in a loud voice,
"I do wish you'd try."
The things that you do,
And forever is losing
A stocking or shoe.
Lets you do as you will;
With bathing or feeding,
The long day to fill.
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes nurse,
You're not looking at me.
As I sit here so still,
As I move at your bidding,
As I eat at your will.
With a father and mother,
And brothers and sisters
Who love one another.
With wings on her feet;
Dreaming that soon,
A lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty ...
My heart gives a leap;
Remembering the vows
That I promised to keep.
I have young of my own,
Who need me to build
A secure and happy home.
My young now grow fast,
Bound together with ties
That forever should last.
Have grown up and gone;
But my man is beside me
To see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more ...
Babies play 'round my knees;
Again we know children,
My loved ones and me.
My husband is dead...
I look at the future,
I shudder with dread;
Young of their own,
And I think of the years
And the love I have known.
Nature is cruel,
'Tis her jest to make old age
Look like a fool.
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
A young girl still dwells,
And now and again
My
battered heart swells.
I remember the pain,
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.
All too few, gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last.
Open and see ...
Not a "Crabbit Old Woman,"
Look closer ...
.
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