If I died alone
in a nursing home
would anyone notice
or
would I be just another
old lady leaving a bed
for another old lady,
just another pair of hands
to fold over a sunken chest,
the heart beneath long ago
stilled by loneliness.

If I died alone
in a nursing home
would my spirit
have been strengthened
by endurance and faith
or
would sweet relief from long days
of bed sores and liquid feedings,
from hurried and impatient
caregivers be welcomed.

If I died alone
in a nursing home
would anything that went
before even matter.

*****

Writing prompt courtesy of This is not a Literary Journal:

Name something that terrifies you. Now go there. Not literally, but in a poem. Use anaphora to keep your pen (or fingers on the keyboard) moving. For example, repeat “When I go to my mother’s grave” or “When I open the box” at the beginning of each line.

So, this poem is a bit of a downer but it is what terrifies me. I guess we need to face those demons now and then.