by Holly Whittelsey Whiteside
Mother clipped my sisters down to size.
Dust whirled at the heels of small spirits
flighting,
So I stepped lightly after, reeling in my own
hurrahs,
before they’d call her scanner eyes my way.
Barbed wire years, until one day
a tiptoe through the compound, and
I’d cut and run before she caught my scent.
Yet life seeks balance.
These turning years have brought us, walking.
Out of a curse, we move toward blessing
as I train to be her nurse.
Visible now, at her back I move,
In care and feeding now of her.
She huddles small and close,
Her dentures in the pink glass on her table.
I dust to keep our world afloat,
As from historic fluff and motes,
We weave some warmth as we are able.
Our all is all as we come around to where
What once was broken is at once our whole.
The world expands as she extends her hand,
As in my hand she tentatively sets her soul.
Holly Whittelsey Whiteside is a life coach, a
caregivers’ coach, and an author. Ms. Whiteside
was a caregiver for ten years. She recently
started and moderates an AARP forum for
caregivers called “Empowering Caregiving.” In
the Fall of 2008, she will be leading a workshop
called “Empowered Caregiving” for Granite State
College’s life-long learning institute.
Further reproduction is by written permission
only. If you have a poem you would like us
to consider for publication, send it to
nancy@caregiver.com
