Holding back the years ....

I sometimes make reference to age on my postings here.

The inevitability of it. The inability to do anything about it.

I came across this poem the other day which appeared in the Wilmslow Express, Wilmslow being just south of Manchester.

It was written by a lady called Phyllis McCormack and was found in her possessions by her family after she had passed away.

It is beautiful and sad at the same time.

I have not asked permission to post it here so I may remove it if asked to do so but you should read it, in full, and if you get through it without a lump in your throat, then you’re a stronger person than me.

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What do you see nurses, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?
A crabbled old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes...
Who dribbles her food and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice 'I do wish you'd try.'

Who seems not to notice the things that you do
And forever is losing a stocking or shoe
Who resisting or not lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding the long day to fill.

Is that what you're thinking...is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, you're not looking at me.

I'll tell who I am as I sit here so still
As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother
Brothers and sisters who love one another
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet.
Dreaming that soon a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at 20 my heart gives a leap
Twenty five now I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure happy home.

A woman of 30, my young now grow fast
Bound to each other with ties that will last
At 40 years old my young now soon gone
But my man stays beside me to see I don't mourn
At 50 more babies play round my knee
Again we know children my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead
I look to the future and shudder with dread.
For my young are busy with young of their own
And I think of the years and the love I have known.
I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel
T'is her jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart
And now there's a stone where I once had a heart
But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells
And now and again my battered heart swells
I remember the joys, I remember the pain
And I'm living and loving life over again.
I think of the years all too few - gone so fast
And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes nurses, open and see...

Not a crabbled old woman - look closer.

See me.