Take Your Guard Away Poem by Lyn Paul

this poem's title reminded me of lock and chain (remember?) . but here is my comment: my goodness! just today my oldest brother said to me on the phone [as we were talking about me missing my rare typos] that sometimes our brains, while proofreading what we’ve written, disregard typos because they (our brains) know what they want to see and see IT instead of making us aware of our spelling mistakes etc. I read this ‘nice’ poem at least twice before copying and pasting it to Microsoft Word [where I try to remember to type my comments first]. not until I looked at it on “Word” [and saw “Someoneone” underlined in RED] did I notice this beauty of a typo! ha ha =============================================== as for the rest of the poem: “You need to move on, for your life depends On special help and care, that cannot be done alone You say how much...you are turning into bone” the last line above, especially the last five words, puzzled me. is “You” saying/lamenting “how much” he/she is “turning into bone”? OR is she/he saying she/he is “turning into bone” (becoming ossified?) and wants to know “how much” does he/she need to “depend(s) on special help” or “how much” “special help” is needed? ? ? see my reason for uncertainty? :) BUT you did manage a rhyme! and the rest of the poem rhymes nicely. ======================================= NOW for my philosophy, which is much different from that implied by the poem [IF in fact the “You” does NOT want to go to a “facility”]: I advocate for people to not live beyond the point where they are still independent and useful to others, especially when it involves OLD AGE (over 75?) , including physical and ‘mental’ impairment. I’m ready and willing to “go” now, at age 67 (and I imagine many would say “good riddance” to me and “WE’re hanging around longer for more burgers, beer, and bed bathes”. my mom, a few years after my father died at age 88 (cancer; congestive heart failure; senility) , decided that her back pain was not being controlled to her satisfaction and could not or would not be. she was about 87 at the time, and she saved some pills [she took lots of different pills for various reasons] and overdosed in her apartment. as luck would have/not-have-it, she survived because of a rare and untimely morning telephone call I made to her before I went to work one day. not getting an answer, I alerted my retired brother. he went to investigate, and due TO emergency services, my dear old mom survived with a trip to the hospital, and a “stomach pumping”. BUT she was VERY UPSET at her survival! I wish I hadn’t called! ! she underwent pain relief measures for her back and counseling and I think drugs for depression and was forced to move to an assisted-living ‘home’ where she seemed to ‘enjoy/tolerate’ the next 2-3 years until congestive-heart failure, unknown sepsis, and her family’s (and her New York State “Living Will” ‘s) wishes were followed by her doctor who ended all but palliative care (pain care) as she lay in bed apparently unconscious in the hospital (again) . my sister and I were allowed to control how much Morphine drip she got from an intravenous tube (which would relieve pain AND hasten death) and she seemed to die peacefully. At last! I don’t want to end up like either of my parents AND I feel I’ve lived a full enough life and will make more resources available to others if I die. also I wish to avoid the hassles put on family members and society by a deteriorating body/mind. SO, though the poem may be comforting for those who do NOT wish to die, or are “afraid” to die, or think living ‘forever’ is the ‘right thing to do’, I am NOT in support of such thinking. AND I noticed “We will visit and be there for you... in every way”! ! ! I HOPE people don’t think ‘visits’ are the same as “being there for you”, though they may help one side or the other. AND I hope relatives will encourage those, who may have 'nursing home' or 'hospital/hospice'.. written in their futures, to sign, while still competent to do so, a form to let their wishes for end-of-life decisions be known to family, friends, and doctors etc. so there ya have it. thanks for sharing. bri :) P.S. THIS ‘comment’ can be paired with this poem: 'Kill Bri / Do Not Kill Bri …. [end-Of-Life Decisions; Personal; Old Age; Medium Length; Serious! ]'

Beautiful. My guard is always up, like a junkyard Doberman, and I seclude myself. But I feel like I may want to reach out. Thanks for your poem

Lovely, caring poem, Lyn. A glimpse, perhaps, of a future now approaching at warp speed.

Brilliant poem - we do indeed need to be open to friendship.