By John Kaniecki
PROMPT—I am grateful for ...
The perpetually empty soap dispenser
Stands like a solitary somber sentinel
Seeking with what it cannot provide
I wave my hand to receive a fruitless grunting groan
The well is void of water yet again
I press the button to unlock the door
Slipping inside I wave to Eli and Erika
On the wall I enter the simplistic code *119
Up on the elevator to the second floor
An ombudsman poster and monthly schedule on the wall
Representing the worst and best of this world
I pass empty, hollow, sterile faces
Sometimes the seniors seems as babes, but not now
Sylvia is sitting in her wheel chair silent
As an ancient fine figurine on display in a museum
Her dementia an impenetrable castle wall
I unlock the wheels and roll her to the TV room
I hold her hand and look for a hint of recognition
Scanning heaven for light on a cloudy night
If she is aware, I regret the necessity of
Having to place her in a nursing home
If she is lost in some ambiguous oblivion
I am vexed by the vast emptiness
Either way I slowly weep tears of sorrow
Sad for what is gone tormented by what could have been
I put in my thirty minutes a day
I do more than relieve my guilty conscious
The staff is acutely aware someone is watching
Tonight as I leave I say “I love you” and kiss her brow
From the infinite darkness a flickering of light
“I love you” says my wife of chiseled stone
I could move heaven and Earth but to what worth?
So with these events searing inside my brain
I write these clumsy words to alleviate the pain
If you walk the same crooked path full of thorns
Carrying the searing hot iron cross
I feel your pain, I feel your pain
John Kaniecki is a poet, writer from Montclair, New Jersey. He works part-time as a math tutor and visits his wife Sylvia who resides in a nearby nursing home suffering from dementia.
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