The Moment My Own Nurse
The Moment My Own Nurse
Of course, she’d been drugged, but
“I just can’t believe it, I can’t
believe it,” she exclaimed even as
she breathed, and in the elevator,
took my face in both hands,
as I bent over
the gurney, and
‘oh” my name, she said, you know, saying
my name, and “oh” my name
so intensely that the nurse
teared up,
and it’s not that we
are in perfect synch or
synch,
though I did know how to calm her somehow
both pre- and post-op, playing just the right music into
her almost deaf ears, able too to sing
along–
still, it was a moment–my mother loving me–
no, my mother always
loves me–but my mother loving me
with her hands–
I can feel them yet, the flow of blood that turned
the cool palms pink, there
on my cheeks,
I can feel them
yet.
**************
For my own prompt on Real Toads (posting later today) to write a poem using narrative. The drawing is mine; all rights reserved.
ps will be traveling today so may be late in returning comments, thanks!
Explore posts in the same categories: poetry, UncategorizedTags: manicddaily, mother-daughter poem, narrative poem
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ManicDDaily 
July 29, 2017 at 1:34 pm
This pocket narrative picks up at just the right moment, at the climax, and resounds so far from there. Leaving us all to feel our cheek and wonder. Amen.
July 29, 2017 at 2:00 pm
My goodness, K 💖 this is so incredibly heart-stirring.. especially; “I can feel them yet, the flow of blood that turned the cool palms pink, there on my cheeks,I can feel them yet” made me sob a little.. sigh.. Beautifully executed.
July 29, 2017 at 5:46 pm
Thanks, Sanaa.
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July 29, 2017 at 5:25 pm
I once accompanied an O.D. aquaintace friend to the ER. Lots of reasons, lots of remorse (partly because she had been saved from death). Seemed the staff was punishing her for her behavier, like doing the stomach pump with vengeance. Years later my dog needed her stomach emptied, ONE shot caused massive vomiting.
..
July 29, 2017 at 5:51 pm
Oh, this brings tears…makes me think of my own mother. She never said “I love you” until she had Alzheimer’s, but she spoke it through it through her hands, sewing, baking, comforting…
July 29, 2017 at 7:32 pm
The mixture of anxiety and comfort, as they come from speaker and subject, is palpable. Very intense.
July 30, 2017 at 12:00 am
A lovely private moment captured elegantly. Fine writing.
July 30, 2017 at 1:05 am
A stirring of emotions goes into the poetry pot, nice write
much love…
July 30, 2017 at 2:37 am
Your poem made me cry.
July 30, 2017 at 10:59 am
Thanks, Kim. I think these experiences must not be uncommon. k.
July 30, 2017 at 3:24 am
This is heart-breaking and beautiful, Karin. In my present fragile state it brought back so many losses, and the way the sense of touch lingers long after sight and sound fades away. What a personal and painful moment you have captured, certainly worthy of bystanders – the nurse and me – tearing up.
July 30, 2017 at 10:58 am
Thanks, Kerry. k.
July 30, 2017 at 9:39 am
Such a moment! And the whole narrative is right there in those few details.
July 30, 2017 at 12:59 pm
You open the door to allow us to share that feeling…that touch. Beautiful.
July 30, 2017 at 1:27 pm
Your poem made me cry. I lost my mother June 18. I still can hear her voice, feel her hands. I imagine I always will. Lovely piece of writing this is.
July 30, 2017 at 2:10 pm
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’m glad that you liked the poem. Take care, k.
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July 30, 2017 at 2:13 pm
You take care as well.
July 30, 2017 at 8:42 pm
A beautiful capture!
July 31, 2017 at 1:54 am
I’ve not felt impelled to write for some time, but your prompt stirred something. I don’t think I’ll link up, just post, since I just don’t have the energy to read and reply to everyone at the moment – work, my sons, a friend’s cancer, this country.
but I’m glad for your drawings, and for your pens, when you do. it’s enough to keep me very loosely tethered. I’m still wavering on closing up the blog… but who knows. who knows.
maybe it’s the chord you struck with this pen that resonates, too. we’re not alone, are we? despite, really being alone, I mean. I think you know what I mean. ~
July 31, 2017 at 11:48 am
This is so well done. I was touched by its immediacy.
July 31, 2017 at 1:21 pm
This poem is so poignant and moving, Karin…..I can see her, repeating your name, loving you with her hands….”I can feel them yet…..” Sigh. Tears at the heartstrings. So beautiful.
July 31, 2017 at 1:37 pm
Thanks so much, Sherry. k.
August 1, 2017 at 9:14 am
Ahhh, Karin, gosh. This is full of life, literally and wonderfully.