When we are old and inconvenient
please shelter us from abuse.
Grant our carers the patience
to listen with open hearts
and hear the anguish
of an aching body required to comply
with another’s misplaced will.
Let them know that speed
is not an accomplishment
that supersedes our dignity,
and remind them that
though our ears be deaf,
or eyes be blind,
we reach out for understanding
and hear their complaints
with our very souls.
When we are old and inconvenient,
please grant us patience
to deal with things carried out
in our ‘best interests’
and lend us a sense of humour
and a kindly nature, so we may bend with grace, and offer something in return.
My eyes have softened
yet I have greater focus,
and see how things are.
Kiss and fall away from us:
Twenty or so if youth declares,
out of fuel on a parky night
blanked by eery-lit unforgiving
dry stone walls, trudged doggedly on,
mile after mile, youth’s gift to push
home through fear with salmon-like
fortitude, back from the godless moor,
like Scott, I boasted, or Kathy,
without a hint of irony.
Fifty or so if age discloses,
an independent woman timed it wrong;
clinging to cliffs pitched deep in night
petrified last rocky reflections
damned by awareness, inadequacy and
grazed knees; sliding towards
the unforgiving sea, mouthing –
I am old, mistaken, stupid, cold.
ENOUGH. Please rescue me.