Work
The old oak retirement home stands still.
Surrounded by all the lost souls of triumph,
Encompassing memories of all kinds.
Someone’s first lover, someone’s first friendship.
Former mother, father, sister, brother,
Gardeners with tulips in the front yard,
Greenness of all kinds, herbs, flora, fauna,
Artists with finished and unfinished crafts
The ideas that are sprawled all about
- Not to be here, not to be anywhere
The sun sets through the haunted stained windows
Feeling ecclesiastic down below
Livelihood of family members shuffle
They shuffle all about, and all around.
Paper people that feel like they may blow,
Blow away, with an ever-daunting trace.
In and out of the room, many feet move.
“Being brave lets no one off the grave.”
Something to hold and be horrified of
- Not to be here, not to be anywhere
All goes on as usual through the halls,
Work to be done, countless people to clean.
Shelves to be stocked, linens to be folded.
Away we wisk our bodies to and fro
Dismembering all the empty rooms of,
All the past souls who once slept in this space.
Rattle of the dark sky with the moon sound.
A whisper so soft, easily covered:
“The other side is where I wanna be.”
- Not to be here, not to be anywhere
Whisking away the body of fifteen.
The world stops, it stops for a whole minute.
The minute: lament, think, continue on.
Gently placing the things that made them them,
Into boxes soon to be forgotten.
Remembering it’s not our job to cry.
Remembering it’s just one of many.
Remembering it’s my time to move on.
The next room: “Hi Ms. Doe, how can I help?”
- Not to be here, not to be anywhere
The old oak retirement home stands here.
Nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
The pretentious picket fence stands in front.
With the tasteless design of the building.
This building marks the end of a cycle.
“The good not done, and the love not given.”
This is the death package of resistance.
“Weeping and gnashing of teeth” but ya know,
Just celebrate the arrival of dawn!
- Not to be here, not to be anywhere
-
Author:
Olive (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 21st, 2024 23:55
- Comment from author about the poem: A life in healthcare has tugged at my heart.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments2
Grim and haunting this piece presents the reality of aging, isolation, being discarded and wishing one was not here any longer. Well written
Hey Olive, I just read your poem "The Old Oak Retirement Home," and wow, it really struck a chord with me. The way you've captured the essence of life in a retirement home is both beautiful and heartbreaking. Your imagery is so vivid – I could almost smell the linens being folded and hear the shuffle of feet in the hallways.
What really got me was how you balanced the individual stories of the residents with the overall atmosphere of the place. That line "Not to be here, not to be anywhere" – it's haunting and so powerful. It really makes you think about mortality and what it means to be at that stage of life.
I appreciate how you've approached the topic of aging and life in a retirement home. While these themes aren't entirely absent from poetry, your specific perspective and the vivid details you've included offer a fresh and poignant take on the subject. It's not easy to write about aging and death with such sensitivity and depth.
Your poem has this quiet strength to it, and it's clear you've put a lot of thought and feeling into every line. The way you've structured it, with the repeating last line in each stanza, really drives home the emotional impact.
Keep writing, Olive. Your voice is unique and important. This poem will stick with me for a long time, and I'm looking forward to reading more of your work in the future. You have a real talent for capturing complex emotions and experiences in your poetry.
Thank you that means a lot.
You're welcome! 🙂
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