I live in a senior housing complex, although the bodies are aging and most minds are unclear I watch as those around me live their last days with an attitude that the young does not have for the wisdom of these people comes with years of experience in living. It is the holidays that are filled with sadness when memories come flooding back; they send many to places that they visited long ago. I embrace living with the varied personalities and ages. I chose to live in harmony with those much like me, yet I see many who have given up on life, I find it a tragedy. For those I wrote this poem.
What does one do in these bad times, my mind that of an old woman, I clear my soul each day. It is in old age that we try to be kind, in younger days we walk through life without worry and blind. Youth to old age, life passionate and wild, yet within time the elderly returns to the days of a child. I do not ask from my bed of death to be free, I do ask that my God let me die in dignity.
I ask that death allow me to find the freedom that my life denied; that I am strong when my family is at my side. Spare me of the whisperings of a crowded room, that there be a ceremonious air and not one that is gloom. I have lived without glory or fame; no one will remember my name. No one knows when I am bound for death, only God knows when I will take my last breath.
While the world around me in silence lies, move me outside so I can see sunshine once more before I die. Let it bathe me in the wonder that I was born, across my face its beauty spread, like the sun I ask only for your smiles of love when I am dead. I pray for no sickroom, no mortal strife, no turmoil for a little breath, let it be a natural passing, no struggling with death.
Let me go composed, fearless, mind clear, willing to let my spirit go somewhere else to wait for everyone that to me is so dear.
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