Frail Poem by Nicole Anne Sia

I’m now at the autumn of my days
Where my wrinkled skin did belong.
I stared at the mirror, soothing my face,
As pigmentations run along.

Shaky hands were the new mannerism;
It’s difficult to get a grip.
Being tested on survivalism –
I got a choice of grasp or trip.

My vision’s been blurred by cataract –
All I've been seeing was white light.
My hearing’s worth started to detract
As muted words held less delight.

I lodge myself in a shelter alone,
For nobody’s got time to spare.
My children have lives of their own;
My husband died and now’s up there.

Now I think my mind’s going to fail me
For I grew weaker day by day.
My heart was filled with great anxiety,
Pumping louder than words can say.

I had a sudden realization –
The resounding beat’s fallen dead.
Miraculously granted back vision,
I walked on and looked straight ahead.

Beyond the white, was my husband I meet;
Awaiting my reach, his arms outstretched.
“Finally arrived, ” was his starting greet,
“But, ‘tis not your time to be fetched.”

“I know you wanted to stay here,
But, ‘tis thy fate that didn't allow.
You still have a mission down there, my dear.
We shall meet soon; farewell for now.”

His silhouette faded to the bright white
Even before I could speak then.
I felt a pull – a tug of remorse night
As my eyesight faded again.

I woke to a start: breathing heavily.
Hearing sirens, I felt a mask.
Attempting to grasp, I moved wearily;
Left a mission, I need not ask.

- Nicole Anne Sia 8/19/15