Stories from a Caregiver

The old man sat in his castle
Waiting, patient
His love would come
His sword of virtue
She would come and rescue him
From the pain of age
From the creaking in his bones
And the slowing of his mind;
From the steady stream of confusion
Clouding his sight;
A dragon he couldn't fight.
"Can you tell me
What it is I should be doing?"
A shimmer in the light
A fleeting peaceful moment
Before the strangers would come
And begin their tugging
And pulling
And scrubbing-
A daily game of torture
In his castle,
In his mind
He wouldn't remember anyway--
Just get it over with,
It'll be fine.
A thing of nightmares,
Those beasts.
He would stare ahead
And cry and moan
And pray, for her
The woman he met
When he was young.
They weren't married yet.
But in the meantime
A daily ritual:
"Please eat"
And sharp needles;
Fangs of his dark foe.
Another stranger's face
Blotchy with tears
Insisting they are there--
For him.
Another way to torture
In his castle,
In his mind.
"Can you tell me who you are,
My dear?"
Then a day would come
When sitting was a thing of dreams
And he would lay to waste.
Was it time for her to come?
Would she kiss him on his wrinkled lips,
And wake him
To a brand new sun?
No, Not today
The stranger with his skin
his eyes, his face,
"Can I sing for you?"
She'd say
There would be no response.
She would hold his hand
And sing.
Tugging clothes, scrubbing flesh
No needle.
A syringe,
Liquid under the tongue;
The tortures done.
Days and days
Of slow decay
A castle blown away
Crumbling.
And yes,
There would come a day
When in the doorway
Of his keep,
A woman smiling
At their meet.
"I knew you'd come for me"
And peace.