Silver Angel

Her frame bent like the cane she trusts,

The weight of years then bows her head,

In shuffling shoes she creeps along,

The squinted eyes cast toward her bed.

No daughter’s touch guides shaky steps,

No children’s laughter cheers her face,

The silent roar of nothingness

Dwells with her in this dark place.

But count the keen lost memories,

The golden grace her soul must hide,

And never share the tales of loving

Life when she was once a bride.

No diamond crown or noble court

Reserved for woman such as this,

’till God’s bright welcoming embrace

Shall bring her home to glorious bliss.

Hal C Clark – March, 2010

I was in a grocery store one day when I noticed an elderly lady pushing a shopping cart who seemed to be alone. She was using the cart for support and moving slowly. The lines of this poem began forming in my mind.

When I got home I wrote down my ideas and began putting them together. I have no idea of this lady’s circumstances, but this is the image my mind produced. In our fast-paced society, we are not always aware of the needs of our seniors, who try to maintain some dignity in spite of their handicaps.

It isn’t pleasant to be forced to ask for favors from others. I try to remain aware of the people around me (as, I am sure, all writers do) and make myself available whenever it is called for. But I must remind myself to allow them their space so they can feel that sense of independence. It is an important balance.