Waiting

You sit in a small room.
A single bed, a chair,
A chest of drawers, a wardrobe
Hold the few pieces of your life
You are allowed to cling to.

On the little table a deck of cards;
The endless games of patience
Replace the discarded hobbies.
You were clever, talented
You had so much to offer - - -

The television, for so long
A mindless companion,
Now redundant in the corner;
Its blankness reflecting
The blankness of your days.

What do you hear in the echoing silence?
Where does that stoic dignity take you?
How do you hide from the nurses' inane chatter,
Their well meaning cheeriness?
They call you aloof;
Do they ignore or
Do they not know,
Years battling couple-driven conformity,
Years of grinding respectability,
Years striving for acceptance
Years of hiding the pain
Take their toll?

So now there is this :
No family, few friends,
And a small room,
After ninety three years.

Ninety three years of - what?
First maybe hope,
Next probably denial,
Then perhaps recognition,
And finally -
In a small room with only a deck of cards
To drive away the awful truth of your life,
- the waiting.

? Elfstone 13/12/03