I stopped everything

 To go watch my grandmother die

 

I took the A train uptown to 207th St

 And walked up the street where the black squirrels ran

 

Three children were sledding down the snow covered hill

 In laundry baskets, sleds, and cookie sheets

 

How could someone be so depressed and sad

 When children play just outside?

 

 

I found my grandmother laying in the chair

 Still and motionless

 Not knowing I was there

I bent down

 And held her hand

 It was cold and veiny, filled with spots from the liver

She awoke to my warm touch and smile

 

Her grey hair had not been washed in days

Her whiskers on her cheek unclipped

Her leg swollen from where the cancer was carved away

Her depression making her hunch-back and stiff

 

Her wrinkles competing with her fragile structure

Her blue eyes still as powerful as my own

Her tears salty to the glance

Her heart still beating from the love

 

I delivered my words

As much as I could

Of hope and strength

 

 

Awards and certificates line the walls

 Old portraits and photographs too

My artwork from when I was little

 And articles about my grandfather’s favorite Democrats

 

The door knobs still have crystal on them

The door frames still arched

The couch still covered in plastic

The candy dish still on the round coffee table

 

My grandparents wearing their old clothes

From so many years ago

I don’t even know what is hip

In or out

 

The bed was unmade

Easier access perhaps

The dishes were clean

There was an overabundance of food from Meals-On-Wheels

 

 

She can no longer walk

Or go to the toilet alone

No more cookies for me

No more smiles on her face

 

She can no longer breathe sunny air

Afraid to go to doctors

Taking numerous pills a day, an hour

She sits and cries

 

All she can say

Is that God is punishing her

And never forget about her Five sisters and Mother

Murdered by the Nazis

As she escaped

And ran away

From Lithuania

 

 

As the sun came down today

They will not let me take the subway home

We order a car service

Arriving on time

 

They pack me full of different goodies

Fruit and Milk mainly

They have so much they cannot finish

Instead of rotting, they send it with me

 

Sometimes, as I see those pears rot in their kitchen

I make direct associations, and see them

 

 

Oma still lives

But,

What do I do now?

 

 

 

© 2000 David Greg Harth

00.02.05.03:00:00 @ 83PTW NYC

00.02.05.22:56:05 @ 296E NYC