From the Inside Out

Reflections from a nursing home visit.

From the inside out,

the rain fell in sheets,

seeming to hammer its way

into even the smallest of spaces.

As I watched the rain,

water so fierce and angry,

I knew such a rain as this,

couldn’t wash it all away.

On the inside, one cries out,

“Help! I’m in pain!”

Another one yells, “Where’s David?”

And another also speaks

while no one listens.

They call us “angel” or “baby girl.”

But they lie.

We are not angels or beloved babies.

We are the old, some of us

the very old.

Do you believe in God, in Jesus, in Heaven?

Come and visit us in our nightmares

where time travels in circles,

where faces fade away,

where  life becomes an illusion.

I heard a story once

about a time of great truth and wisdom.

The ancients were revered and many came seeking their knowledge.

Stories are for children,

those who still believe in magic, fairies and frog princes.

How about you?

Will you come and visit us?

Will you be like the others who come

bringing a gift of flowers,

hiding their concerns behind false smiles?

I wish you could visit and stay.

I wish you would be forced to stay.

Only a few days and you’d be

on the inside

looking out just like me.

Dear God, I pray, “Now I lay me down to sleep.”

I pray that You will keep.

Keep me that I should not live another day

on the inside
looking out.

By Ina C. Armstrong    8-2009