My Father’s Cane
When my eyes open, I get up. When I feel hungry,
I eat what my stomach feels like eating.
My life is no longer mine.
I do what I am told.
When my body tells me it wants to go outside and sit,
I go outside and sit.
When my soul wants to say something,
I listen, and take notes.
My life never was mine.
It’s time to pack, so I pack.
I move.
Things get done.
My furniture arrives.
My car appears.
A bank account opens.
Food stands in the refrigerator.
They tell me my health is insured.
It’s not.
I’ve become unsteady, unsure of myself.
For support, I lean on my father’s cane.
I was not old. Then, one night,
Over the dark ocean,
Lightning struck, and in an instant,
I was old.
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STUDYING WITH BRUCE FERTMAN 