She Poem by Stacey Pinto
She
That early hour
when dawn was breaking
she closed her eyes
others were sleeping
not one awake
when God's messenger
came on a chariot
and took her life away.
She lived her life well
lived a life of honour
with dignity, one worth respect
And at 72 she looked
younger, hair not white
still turning grey
thick and long, my mom envied
A nurse, that she was
she worked at having
the poor and the needy
live a healthier life
while at the same time
caressing a world of her own.
A mother of seven
she lived among the poor
herself not quite rich.
With a nurse's living those days
she struggled hard
to make both ends meet.
But yet she had seven lovely
children, those who gave her strength,
those who were her pride.
I think of her
she is always part of life.
I was a kid then
memories of a childhood
but yet no memories
no memories - because I
remember never growing up
I remember not knowing
what things were or why they were.
I remember of tin loads
of used injections thrown out,
not to be used again
I remember me with my cousins
sneaking them out when no-one looked
I remember still how I used to think
trees needed medication
and used to poke them
with those injections.
But never did I realize
why they were in that tin
that she suffered everyday
that she was ill;
so ill that her disease
required more, much more
than those tin loads of medication.
I always wished I knew her more
always wished that she liked me
like she did my other cousins
She always did, now I know.
I remember seeing her in tubes,
and knowing she was sick
but not knowing how sick
I remember playing around
laughing, when she lay still
not able to move an inch
And I remember that day before
she died,
when she barely moved,
barely spoke
I gave her that smile,
the kind of smile that comes
from a child knowing of
of all the happiness in the world;
smiling with nothing to fear
nothing to worry about.
And she gave me back
that child-like smile
the only time when
her lips moved that day.
I'll never forget it,
I can still close my eyes
and remember every detail
on her face so clearly;
For that one moment, I felt
special, more special than
anything else could ever make me feel.
I wish I knew she'd die soon
I promise I would have been awake
I promise I’d be with her
But God would have it his way.
And still I remember seeing her
in the coffin,
surprised to see her body so lifeless,
and I know of me blushing
with embarrassment,
when my aunt asked me,
'where has she gone? '
I didn't have an answer
I didn't know,
nor did my face show
emotion of any sort.
Cause I was then a kid
in a different world
not knowing what was appropriate
not knowing how to fake sadness
not knowing to show your feelings
out the right way.
The service too, I sat in church
not knowing why things were that way
I remember seeing so many people;
me thinking to myself,
'I wish I’d be liked like her
so that when I passed away
people would miss me so much'
She left this world
but left back all that she made
all that she built block by block
piling one on the other
And she left me memories
memories but yet no memories.
But what went along with her
was her dignity, her respect
one I’ll admire all my life.
Her I called my grandmother
and this I write - her story
told in my words,
with every line wishing
I was older then;
Cause at that early hour
I was just an innocent child
still in bed.
I WAS RAISED IN THE HOUSE WITH MY GRANDMOTHER. I ACTUALLY SLEPT INT HE SAME BED WITH HER JUST ABOUT EVERY NIGHT UNTILL I WAS 18. SHE IS NOW SICKLY. I PRAY FOR HER. I DON'T KNOW HOW I WILL REACT THE DAY SHE PASSES. I LOVE HER SO MUCH ANDI LNOW THAT IM HER FAVORITE GRANDDAUGHTER. I LOVE YOU GRANNY!
shouuld say ts a good effort stacey, keep writing
quite felt and poignant too, as we lose our own people,10++, thanks for sharing
With a nurse's living those days she struggled hard to make both ends meet. It is said you are appreciating a poem where a woman has been referred to as poor. Read the above lines to realize this point.
Are you realising that this poem is a detriment to the reputation of a demised person or not? Would you like if your child had to write your mother was poor?
dear stacy... great that what your pen penned..10++ ``Happiness is a very secure path. When we have no problems, we’re happy. But even when we have problems, We can still choose to be happy.`` hazem al..
The poem has a natural flow. As some others have pointed out, the poem is lengthy and it may be a tiresome job for others to go through the entire text. Make it short and precise. Remember, the time of the readers is precious. To me, the poem is descriptive and such a lengthy description can be brought to a capsule form as you may gain experience. Naturally, the writings during our formative years tend to be descriptive with facts and figures (it may be important for the writer but not for the readers) but as we gain momentum, we would learn to capture only the essence - the qualities of the person rather than the quantities. Good reading habit would tell you in due course how to bring out the contents in a short, precise, forceful, beautiful and compact manner. Improvisation of language means showing the reader an entire universe in a word or two! Poetry is one of the best media for such expressions. I often come across much prose within the framework of verses and I cannot vote for that style. Poetry has a marking difference from prose which one has to identify himself. In poetry the usage such as '12' has to be avoided. Computer language, if any, has also to be avoided. For me the full gramatic British English suits well. For this, I owe my debts to my teachers. Grammar has its own importance. Chatting in English is different from structural English. You may go through my poetry and find out for yourself. There too I have poems describing persons. For example, 'A note from our heart'. We can see persons and situations in a symbolic way and these poems become impressive poems if the symbolism is apt. Please don't have regrets that you were only a child to miss the real warmth and understanding of this lady. Nay, you have rightly captured the essence of that lady even as a child. That insight is what is actually needed. Insight is a very good quality of quality poets. You have this quality and I can already see that you can easily shape into a quality poetess. May god bless you.
A very emotional piece about one special you have known to be a nurse with a warm heart, who is now very ill. May God's Grace be upon her. And may your pen reach its highest peak by God's Grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/7/2024 1:15:40 PM # 1.0.0.1119
this poem is realy emotonal and grippping, you get your point across, and it brings a lump to my throut - well done - i would recoment that u shorten your poems in futer, because that can make more of an inpacts- but not in this case, and i wouldnt/ couldnt recoment edit this peise of litritue 10+