Cranky Old Man – Anonymous Poem

You may have seen this already on Facebook.  I love it because it can apply to anyone, not just the aged.  We human beings are, after all, more alike than we are different.  If we would each just take the time really see each other, replacing judgement and hatred with compassion and understanding, this world would be free of terrorism , racism, and senseless bloodshed.

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
It has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the country as well as in mental health publications. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.
And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this ‘anonymous’ poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man…..
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 is 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.
It’s jest to make old age . . . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles . . . . . grace and vigour depart.
There is now a stone . . . where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass .  . . a young man 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 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, people . . . . . . open and see.
Not a cranky old man . . .
Look closer . . . . see . . . . . . ME!!

About Elizabeth

Elizabeth is a powerful light worker, intuitive medium, and coach. She lives with the daily challenge of muscular dystrophy and shares the wisdom she receives from the Divine Source of all that is, bringing joy to the lives of others.
This entry was posted in Compassion and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Cranky Old Man – Anonymous Poem

  1. I generally don’t reply to anything but this was an incredible poem and I thank you for sharing it. Hopefully, it will open people’s eyes. Thank you!


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