I visited a man this morning who had lost his speech and other faculties due to a stroke. I was there with his wife when she shaved him with an electric razor, wiped the drool from his mouth and with her hand combed his white hair. I was deeply moved by the experience and felt the incredible sense of loss as he wept whilst I prayed.
Coming home I wrote the following poem. I am no poet so don’t judge me too harshly. It is just sometimes words in straight sentences just don’t make sense.
Deep within traversing soul
The pain of loss will leave its trail
A sense that all will pass away
Tomorrow is never like this day
The very one I love this hour
Eventually burns to fading sense
Together vowed in dreams now drenched
A fear of two ships or a plaque bench
I know myself in kind this hour
But the mirror tells a common tale
An autumn glance a golden pale
The next a blur and drooling frail