Poems of a CNA

Even though I worked in an assisted living home we did hospice care for our residents when they started failing. These are poems about my experience working as a CNA, and some of them have to deal with death when acting as a healthcare worker. They are not to be seen as depressing, but written as a recognition of relief that death brings to these old souls. Please note, I do NOT believe in euthanasia -the idea is unBiblical and extremely sad
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"In the faded faces
you can get lost
in the passages of time.

Windows when looked through
Tell stories of beauty past
speak of memories fading fast.

And when finally what remains
is but a remnant of what was
the wandering soul in silence says much.

Lines between the present and past
are blurred with visions of the future
where the casual observer is not invited in.

Slowly, slowly fading,
lingering in a hazy existence
life leaves but a shell
though hollow, soon completely emptied.

And I sift through all this
looking for redemption
In an empty wrinkled hand."

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"Green tubes
like snakes crawling
across the floor
and up the easy chair

Into nostrils breathing
the welcome air of life
a pair of viper fangs settle
grooves formed among the wrinkles"
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"Hissing, like a silent serpent
crawling belly flat across the floor
creeping up the armrest
welcomed as a friend
its fangs exuding
where they mark
not death,
but life."

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This short poem following was about one of my residents who had Parkinson's disease and only had the use of one hand. In the dining room a blind resident sat to the right of her, which was the side of the good hand. At mealtimes when they would sit together the first resident would struggle to reach the blind residents coffee cup (which is put upside down when we set the tables) and dexterously flip it right side up using her one good hand.

"Only one hand
The other crippled
yet unable to do much
extending what she has
to do for those who cannot."

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"I held death's hand
and with the other
guided the wrinkled tool of toil
into his embrace.

Sweet relief I brought
to one lingering here
caught between two worlds,
Here, and gone.

I ushered a soul to death's doorstep
and with tearful energy
I sought to soothe the path
of one last tumultuous trip to be taken.

I walked right up to death
and relinquished my grasp on the shell
let him ferry her across the styx
while I turned back again

Yet from death returning
my finger prints remain on his hand
and part of me is departing
with the soul to Jordan's land.

I dealt with death
and I gave him a soul
and though with sorrow I bow my head,
with pride I straighten my back.

Because stooping I carried a burden
and sweating I toiled along
helping to bear the cross of one wearied
until leaving it behind they were free."

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This last one is a poem about the death of a sweet peppy blind resident we had who was strongly and evidently Christian. She was surrounded by her family throughout her journey "home to my Father" as she referred to heaven.

"Spirited soul
softly slipping
once determined,
it was her time to go

Gently grasping
family sorrows
watchfully waiting
for the pre-appointed end

Waiting, waiting
it's always the hardest part.
Of saying goodbye,
as time drags on