When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a
small hospital near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed
that she had nothing left of any value. Later, when
the nurses were going through her meager possessions,
they found this poem. Its quality and content so
impressed the staff that copies were made and
distributed to every nurse in the hospital.
One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old
lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in
the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the
North Ireland Assn. for Mental Health. A slide
presentation has also been made based on her simple,
but eloquent, poem.
And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing
left to give to the world, is now the author of this
"anonymous" poem winging across the Internet:
Crabby Old Woman
What do you see, nurses? What do you see? What are
you thinking, when you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman, not very wise, uncertain of habit,
with faraway eye.
Who dribbles her food, and makes no reply, when you
say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice, the things that you do, and
forever is losing, a stocking or shoe?
Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will, with
bathing and feeding, the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, you're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still, as I
do at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother,
brothers and sisters, who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet,
dreaming that soon now, a lover she'll meet.
A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap,
remembering the vows, that I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, I have young of my own, who need
me to guide, and a secure happy home.
A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast, bound to
each other, with ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons, have grown and are gone, but
my man's beside me, to see I don't mourn.
At fifty once more, babies play round my knee, again
we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead, I look at
the future, I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing, young of their own, and
I think of the years, and the love that I've known.
I'm now an old woman, and nature is cruel, 'tis jest
to make old age, look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles, grace and vigor depart, there
is now a stone, where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass, a young girl still
dwells, and now and again, my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, I remember the pain, and I'm
loving and living, life over again.
I think of the years, all too few, gone too fast, and
accept the stark fact, that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people, open and see, not a crabby
old woman; look closer, see ME!!
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
How are you tonight sweetie? 
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