White hair & Weak hands

IMG_4636I sit quietly in a corner watching his chest rise and fall

A steady rhythm of exhales with periodic moans

Each pause between breaths I wonder if its his last

Who is this old man with white hair and weak hands

I still see a tall, dark and strong father that stood at a helm

Traveled the seas and pushed us on a swing into the trees

Struck fear in us when angered and respect as he taught us

another spell

Who is this old man with white hair and weak hands

He loves his mother and brother and hopes to see them again

Scared and unsure is a look I’ve never seen on him before

Once always clutching a beer now grips the Bible with fear

Who is this old man with white hair and weak hands

Dad holding my child
My father and one of my daughters 1993

 

 

 

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9 Comments

  1. V.J. Knutson says:

    A moving piece, Noellie. I volunteered in long term care and hospitals for many years, and often wondered about the patients’ lives.

    Like

  2. Renee Espriu says:

    A very touching and poignant poem. Thank you!

    Like

    1. Noellie says:

      🙂thank you I appreciate that kind feed back

      Liked by 1 person

  3. dorannrule says:

    Your poem is so touching for your memories of a strong father now weakened by age. I understand.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Noellie says:

      Thank you for being so kind and and understanding my heart. It’s tough to watch

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Very sweet. I see both of my parents age and it is hard. I’ve lost several uncles and I know someday it will be my father. I will value the time we have left to share. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Noellie says:

      Watching this part of life is very cruel but I understand it and try to make the best of everything ❤️ I wish you the best with your parents

      Liked by 1 person

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