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See Me --- Take A Moment To See A Life

Posted on September 21, 2020 at 2:30 PM

This poem is from an old man who died in a nursing home in Australia. It was assumed he left nothing of value to the world. As the nurses went through his possessions, they found this poem which is now making it's way across the internet and waking up our remembrance to really SEE each other. His legacy is the call of clear sight to each of us. Take 3 minutes and read on!

 

Cranky Old Man “See Me”

 

What do you see, nurses, what do you see,

what are you thinking when you’re looking at me?

A cranky old man, not very wise,

uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes.

 

Who dribbles his food and makes no reply

when you say in a loud voice, “I do wish you’d try!”

Who seems not to notice the things that you do,

and forever is losing a sock or shoe.

 

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will

with bathing and feeding, the long day to fill.

Is that what you’re thinking? Is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, nurse; you’re not looking at me.

 

I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still,

as I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.

I’m a small child of ten with a father and mother,

brothers and sisters, who love one another.

 

A young boy of sixteen, with wings on his feet,

dreaming that soon now a lover he’ll meet.

A groom soon at twenty – my heart gives a leap,

remembering the vows that I promised to keep.

 

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own

who need me to guide and a secure happy home.

A man of thirty, my young now grown fast,

bound to each other with ties that should last.

 

At forty my young sons have grown and are gone,

but my woman’s beside me to see I don’t mourn.

At fifty once more babies play round my knee,

again we know children, my loved one and me.

 

Dark days are upon me, my wife is now dead;

I look at the future, I shudder with dread.

For my young are all rearing young of their own,

and I think of the years and the love that I’ve known.

 

I’m now an old man and nature is cruel;

’tis jest to make old age look like a fool.

The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart,

there is now a stone where I once had a heart.

 

But inside this old carcass a young boy still dwells,

and now and again my battered heart swells.

I remember the joys, I remember the pain,

and I’m loving and living life all over again.

 

I think of the years – all too few, gone too fast

and accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So open your eyes, nurses, open and see,

not a cranky old man; look closer – see ME!

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