The Stranger
The body breaks down,
it has to, I tell myself,
watching her breathe,
wishing she’d just stop.
I could clean my calendar
of this shell,
hollowed of affections
and memories —
the firing of a few
unsympathetic neurons
the wedge against
moving past, moving on.
It’s terrible
this holding pattern
of here and not.
No peace except
between heart beats,
love and history stripped down
to something baser
than flesh and bone.
I bring cookies
for the staff who feed
and bathe her.
My selfishness
masquerading as caring.
Crossing the grounds
of the nursing home
on my way in —
the Sunday dew,
cheap shoes, wet leather
stains my skin.
29 thoughts on "The Stranger"
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Beautiful, brutally honest from the first stanza to the “Cheap shoes, wet leather/stains my skin.”
“I could clean my calendar
of this shell,
hollowed of affections
and memories”
“It’s terrible
this holding pattern
of here and not.”
“My selfishness
masquerading as caring.”
There is so much I love in this poem.
Appreciate it, Fanny. Thanks for the comments.
“It’s terrible
this holding pattern
of here and not.”
It’s so hard to write about, and yet you do it so well.
I like how parred down this poem is. You don’t overdramatize.
No peace/except between heartbeats.
There’s so much duality and mixed emotion in the fourth verse. You bring cookies for the staff (an act of caring) but confess selfishness. The ending verse I’d beautiful. It reads like a in haiku.
Thanks buddy!
Thank you for the comment, Roberta.
You know this, I think this is wonderful. The cookies particularly got me.
Beautifully described, excellent details, fully captured
Thank you Mike. I appreciate your comments.
This subject is so difficult to write about, but you aced it:
“It’s terrible
this holding pattern
of here and not.”
This is a rendering and relatable piece–you hone in on the love, duty, and heartbreak and self-preservation of caretaking finely.
I always appreciate your readings of my poems, Shaun. Thanks for this.
Such a deep and honest write, Bill. This poem simultaneously lifts and aches. This line hits home:
“My selfishness
masquerading as caring.”
Damn. That is a brutal truth. Been there. It’s tough. Thank you for writing and sharing this. Your writing is phenomenal.
Thanks, HA. I’ve appreciated your comments and your poems this month.
Agree with those who commented before me.
That first stanza brings a rush of lived experiences…you speak it well.
Brutal and hard “It’s terrible/this holding pattern/of here and not.”
That last stanza sings.
Thanks, Pam!
Such honesty in such an uncomfortable place. The poem puts us in your shoes in more ways than one!
Thanks, pal. I appreciate you.
This is so well done – from the title on. That betweenness is such a difficult place and your honest words hit home for many of us.
Thank you Nancy.
Oh Bill! You and Tom Hunley are the most honest poets I know. Not a shred of delusion or denial here—y’all go straight for the marrow. I’m in awe.
That’s some heady company, Kevin. I appreciate you saying so.
My selfishness
masquerading as caring. – yikes!
Bill, your poems are so accessible, honest, and echo long after one is done reading. Your heart is in all of them!
Thank you Sylvia!
That’s some heady company, Kevin. I appreciate you saying so.
Stupid fingers. Dupe comment.
Bill.
So good.
You capture the importance of being presence and the mourning of the moment when someone is gone but still here.
We need to hear the honesty in this poem, which echoes the experience of so many!
Flows with excellence of craft, honesty, and authenticity. Multi-layered and personally relatable. It has my practice this month at Lexpomo to study the writing of poetry. You are definitely among those poets I admire and include in my studies. Thank you, Bill