His universe
A bedroom in the nursing home
His entire universe
All things physical contained
Within four yellow walls.
An illness in mid-life
Made him a prisoner
Lying on a bed
Both kind and cruel.
Able to think but not to speak
His mind still vibrant
His moods have mellowed
From Buddhist chimes and practices.
The nursing staff
From round the world
Kindly care for him
As if he was their own
Round the clock
They watch and wait
Round the week
They feed and bathe.
Over the years
Friends disappear
It’s normal
And it’s natural.
Half an hour
Once a month
We chat, at least I do,
While he smiles and nods
It’s a moment of grace,
A gift from the universe
Though mute, communicates
And gives all things perspective.
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