Written by Mary Anne Abdo
Fourteen days and new winkles have appeared.
New awareness of loved ones.
Trying to fit into their aging skins.
Misleading medical advice.
Because the aging population is not vitally important.
On the ground for twelve hours.
Almost lost you to heaven on that gurney.
Lovingly cleaning up old blood.
From the bathroom.
To the hallway.
Through the living room.
And along the side of the bed.
All because aging is not revered nor respected.
A toss off.
Hospital emergency rooms revisited.
Same room shared by two sisters.
The hallways crowded
Code orange and code red.
Blaring over the loudspeaker.
In hyper mode until 3am.
We are not in our same skins as winter draws nearer.
Making decision and crying so many heaps of tears.
Memories of loved ones and how they used to be.
We have time for nothing and yet nothing is being achieved.
Sitting in the dark noise of silence.
I am contemplating aging…
Text © Mary Anne Abdo
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Powerful and moving poems with love delineating every word.
Ari, thank you for your kind words.
In death, there is rebirth. Powerful piece Mary Anne. Thank you for sharing your writing with the world.