Saying I Love You

Saying I Love You

A woman at the entryway studiously

Scrawls my name in curled black letters on

The milky pages of a dull green ledger,

To mark my visit to the banks of

The River Styx.

Metal wheelchairs rattle by,  

Perfumed by unnamed sprays and tablets and gases

That change a summer’s day into a chilled noxious

Blend of hell’s sulfur and acridity.

The people in the chairs, mothers and fathers,

Grandmothers and grandfathers stare blankly

As they ride. Solo passengers on a train of history, with

Cars unhitched and cargo long forgotten.

Hallways, bright and narrow as soft yellow funnels

Guide me where I never want to go.  I step aside

For medicines and juices that roll past

On shiny sliver carts, with squeaky

Wheels, alive with the rhythms of hollow days

And sleepless nights.

A nurse nods, her professional aplomb

And perfunctory smile lack encouragement

For conversation.  My heart rides heavy in my

Chest.

Nurses and attendants crowd a counter.

A coterie, controlled by white faced

Boards, scribbled in blues and greens and

Reds, of times and doses.

If I asked, they wouldn’t tell. Trust issues.

Privacy issues in this warehouse of secrets,

And forbidden knowledge, written in a language

I don’t understand and can’t decipher.

His room is three doors down on the left.  A withered

Man in a body that once held strength, a face that

Faced the enemy and never blinked, that loved

And was adored.  All gone now, the days

Of his calendar blotted out except for medicinal

Notations.

Yellowed fingernails, once smartly trimmed

And shined and polished. Disheveled strands of

White and gray that haven’t felt a comb in days. A

Face so gaunt I blink in wonder.

He greets me with dark, empty eyes, black pools

That cannot smile or understand. This man

Who brought me life and saw me through the storms

No longer knows my name.

I am a stranger, one of many who walks into his room

And speaks strange words.

This man whom I have loved forever, the shadow of

The man who used to be, a man who needs my help

When I have no help to give.

“Hi, dad.”  He only stares.

                                   

                                                ------William Stroud