Mudhole Poem by Thomas R. Ruffin

'I'll take her and throw her around, by damn'
he'd say at feeding time
when his hands were strapped to the arms of the chair

'I'm gonna have that baby'
he'd say at bedtime
as if it were up for discussion or were even possible
'damn, you sure are ugly... half your face is caved in'
he told the man in the room next door

'now, now, Mister Mudhole, hyperdown my toothless friend'
I would say to him

'my knees are hurting... I can't... I can't make it'
he protested

'you're not walking Mister Mudhole, you're in your rolling chair... and I'm
just behind you.. pushing'

he never heard me... just a quick irritated glance from over his shoulder
'bye bye... bye bye darlin', bye'
he would mumble while waving to her
or somebody
in his forever lost mind

on Sundays when others had visitors of family
mainly sons and daughters, brothers or sisters,
some grandchildren or an occasional spouse
and they brought to them pies and cakes and such
and talked of things going on back home

... on each and every Sunday... when others were happy and smiling...
Mudhole sat alone... hands tied to something.. just a sittin'... rockin'...
mumblin'... droolin'... and noddin'
it were the fleeting moments of clarity that came about him
when he knew where and who he was
that I found wholly unbearable
like a caged animal
but the transparency of his eyes would be shortlived
and the hazy glaze would soon return
and there he'd be on yet another Sunday afternoon just a sittin'... rockin'...
mumblin'... droolin'... and noddin'
lookin' left and right
alone

for Mudhole life lingered on and on and was no
longer welcome
on occasion at night
when the quiet was nearly deafening
when creaking steps could be heard from a great
distance
I could hear him... faintly... barely
I could hear him
whispering words to her
or somebody
laying on his back
wrists bound to the rails
eyes wide open
staring at something
her
far beyond the ceiling
and he spoke softly and gently to her
partly unintelligible words
and I watched as, but just once, he warmly smiled a gummy smile
at her... I suppose
he'd say with tears rolling slowly down his face from vacant eyes
... tears he could not wipe away
he'd say
'bye bye... bye bye darlin'... I'll see you at the mudhole'

a month or more of Sundays came and went
and The Death had not yet visited upon Mudhole
though he daily prayed for a dark horse rider
with a lengthy blade
to pass by and in one swift fury... gut him

so, on an appropriate Sunday morning
when the sun had not yet appeared
and the others slumbered in pharmaceutical peace
I gathered up Mudhole
and sat him in his rolling chair
and pushed him quietly down the hall
out into the crisp and foggy morning
down the sidewalk
out across the grounds and into the woods
there was no protest from him
he was just a sittin'... rockin'... mumblin'... droolin'...
and noddin'
lookin' left and right

through the trees to a crooked creek
'baby I'm comin' to see ya'
he said excitedly
and there was that gummy smile
he knew

'we're here, Mister Mudhole'
I must've said
I could barely hear my words
for the pounding of my heart

and as sudden as it was...
it was over
he called to me
called me by my name
but I could not look back
and as I ran... as fast I ever had
I heard him
I heard him say
'bye bye......... bye bye, darlin'
... I'll see you in the mudhole'