The lights are bright
Room sits in quiet gloom
People without thoughts;
Purpose slips away in fraught –
Vicariously, sit the chairs;
Ingloriously, there - the blank stares.
A shadow of hallowed days;
A vacant hollow of disarrays
Waiting for something
Anything
To retell stories of stronger, younger glories;
That use to stir their name.
Who will remember where once they came;
Where are the things that claimed their fame?
Only now the silence seems to know.
Who it is that lingers at the portico
Hiding, within a haze that blends the window’s panes,
The empty rooms left closed and full of pains.
Vicariously the residents sit in the community’s chairs
Ingloriously holding onto individuality and life with blank
stares.
The medical posting at the door’s view
Alerts all givers to a precise rescue
DNR instructions for they don’t know where they are;
Note: apply sedation to assist in memory’s care.
This is the last stop; there are no more places to go
The stay will never play nor see a stranger show
Patience for the patients that no longer palaver the day;
Nor the weather or even complain of their dismay.
No, they wait for the conductor to whisper their songs;
Singing how they will awake - to a harmony without wrongs.
