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Some are Painters
by Alison McKenzieI took a call the other day
From a little old lady.
She’s 89
And has severe rheumatoid arthritis.
She paints 3X4 canvases –
Seascapes and Jacob’s Ladder.
And the like.
Only thing is,
She can’t get out of bed.
So, her loving husband
Built a sling for the arm she can’t lift,
And she lays in bed with that arm
Held up by a pulley,
And she paints.
“You see,” she explained
“I need to spend the last of my days
Get’n on God’s good side.
Now, I don’t know if I’ve got a day,
A week,
Or another whole year.
But while I can still paint,
I try to make a sad person’s day
Just a little bit brighter.”
And I look out at the gray skies,
And think she’s doing a fine job.
04/05/2011 Author's Note: Another true story. I know it's not a spectacular poem, but this is barebones, just getting the idea onto paper time. When I re-work it, I want to include things like how her little old lady voice sounded, and her determination/desperation to do something nice for people who are dying (I work in a hospice office). It seems that sometimes, the day to day observations turn into magic. And sometimes, they just sit here, like this, sweet enough, but pretty ordinary - like they would be better put in a journal entry maybe? Suggestions about what would make this a poem worth reading (or not) definitely appreciated.
Posted on 04/06/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Anita Mac on 04/06/11 at 06:17 AM Even if this is just a first draft, I'm glad you got it out. She sounds like the kind of woman I want to grow into. |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 04/06/11 at 01:10 PM Yes, you definitely have a worthy and beautiful subject for a stunning poem here Alison, because what I SEE here is LIFE. There is no more resistence against what is, there is no complaint, no bitterness, no resentment, no expectation or even hope for another day or another year. There is only the moment in which she paints. There is only the moment in which a suffering being suddenly and whole heartedly smiles. Where desire ends is where LIFE begins, be you 29 or 89. You have something special here. Thanks Alison for brightening my morning. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 04/08/11 at 03:37 PM I think you tell us about her wonderully. Just by listening to your pauses, I already know I want to be like this gracious woman, to see things as she sees them. So, if a poem can lose me into its message and have me feeling connected, then the poem, too, has done its work. And this one is pure grace. |
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