I sit alone by the table.
I hear voices.
Sounds of movement.
Sounds of life.

I reach out.
I feel something smooth.
A plate.
A meal.

Smells tickle my nose.
Aromas of chicken.
Sweet smells of pudding.
Smells of life.

What color is the food?
Is the sun shining?
Are the faces around me young or old?
So many questions.

Questions I can’t answer,
I’ve never been able to answer.
For I’ve been blind,
Living in the dark for years.

The nursing home is now my prison.
I sit alone, 
Ignored by the staff,
Poked by the nurses.

This is not the ending
I would have envisioned for myself. 
A darkness too encompassing.
A sadness too overwhelming. 





The moon passes the sun.

Morning bows out, all done.

Darkness unveils its grim poker hand

to the drum beat of the marching band.

A moment of blackness

brings fears of more darkness.

What if your life was all dark?

The sun never lefts its mark.

The mornings and nights the same,

bringing you mountains of pain.

No relief from the bleak cocoon

like digging your grave with a spoon.

Years fade and turn to dust,

your memory goes bust.

Trapped in walls of despair,

without holes for the air.

Is this living or not?

She is stuck in one spot.

Too afraid to venture outside,

a further blow to her lost pride.

She hides in the nursing home,

where she reaches for the phone.

“Help me,”​ she cries out.

No one can help out.

Lost in her dark cocoon,

where she fits like a spoon.

Waiting for death to take its flight

to a better place in the light.