April 8th a Phonetic Alliterative

Of late, I have been consumed with thoughts of my own aging, what I can no longer control and I wonder, when I will cease to fight what nature wants. Interestingly enough, today's alliterative date, brought me back to a poem I wrote a few years ago after visiting my mother-in-law at a nursing home.  The title, "No Nursing Home Nirvana- An Aging Alliteration", how do you like that?  While my own struggle with my aging has nothing to do with this poem, I still thought it worth the time to post, given the timely coincidence of the date and my current interest in letting nature take it's course, so here it is:

Sometimes sense and semblance seem shrouded in a shawl

buried beneath burdens bringing forth some bitter brawls

When will we welcome wisdom's winching ways

leading, luring, leaving us it's languid, lonely leis

Dream no more depression, drowns the doubtful dame

fearing families forgotten and friends forsaken fame

Instant independence, idles in thine eyes

Crumbled convalescence, crushes courageous cries

Elderly ignite, egregious ignorance

hoping home can harbor this horrid hindrance

Mostly morose memories muster minds malaise

oddly old and opulent often ostracize

Kindling kisses kindness, known only now and then

aging able animus, adorn us all again

Greeting gaunt and ghostly grandma, gather gurney side

together to travail, the tender, turning tide

Reasoning resembles resurrection run amiss

Yesterday yanked yonder yielding, yearning youthfulness

No one knows nirvana as nature's noble knight

Please preserve her pride, pursuant to this plight

unsettling unhappiness - unconsciously unhand

unwittingly undertaken

unable to understand

I remember, the horror of the entire experience left me emotionally exhausted.  I am so thankful I had the fortitude to write my feelings down at the time.  This is a place, in my mind, I never want to go back to.  Probably my darkest poem to date.  It is about the agonizing deterioration of an aging parent compounded by the horribly impersonal, inadequate care this particular nursing home lent.

Now this makes my aging woes, child's play.