POETRY:  The Old Beauty

POETRY:  The Old Beauty

 

I walked into her room quite hurriedly

In a rush to finish rounds very rapidly

I saw an old black woman, calm, in her bed

Helpless, pleasantly demented, lying in bed

The food tray at the bedside was not touched

The applesauce, soup, and the broth were untouched

Her thirsty lips and dry mouth showed a great desire

For a sip of soup or water, if they could acquire

My rush to finish rounds and go to my office

Was halted when our smiles exchanged a kiss

The food tray would have been taken away very soon

By the harried nurses, darting in and out of her room

One had to slow down to see the beauty of 92 winters

In her old face, covered with so many deep wrinkles

I slowed down and helped her to take small sips

Of her soup and broth, followed by water sips

She thanked me with a smile on her face

I thanked her, allowing me to help in her case

I had looked through her eyes into the eyes of God

I had seen on her face the smile of God

I had touched through her heart the heart of God

I had fed through her lips the mouth of God

I asked, “Why had God left those who needed help?”

He smiled, “Didn’t I make those who could help?”

“My hands, eyes and ears are those who care

My love and help flows through those who care”

“I am the Helper, the Needy, and the Help itself

I am the Lover, the Beloved, and the Love itself”

Bahar Bastani, M.D.

St. Louis, MO


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