Here is a painting Vernon made a month or so back. I couldn’t remember if I’d shared it before, but it fits the following poem pretty well, so it’s making an appearance here tonight. What a bird, what a character—drawn purely from subconscious, a brief suggestion, and the motion of his hand. It fascinates me so.
Though the past couple of days with Vernon have been pleasant, something I recently saw disturbed and stayed with me. My friend Nicole joined me from LA on Friday. She’s comfortable around Vernon as she’s visited many times. He was begging for water as usual, but we knew we couldn’t give it to him as his coughing/choking has become worse nor can he sit upright in the dialysis chair. We hesitantly asked for a small cup of water, but we weren’t sure how to administer it. I remembered there was an empty medicine dropper in his bag, so Nicole fed him water, drop by drop. It broke my heart to see him so desperately reaching his mouth for refreshment that never really came. A drop of water isn’t the same as a gulp.
Here’s my rough poem, trying to spit out what I saw and have been carrying with me ever since…
Trapped on his back,
he kicks the blanket off with birdlike legs,
knocked knees and brittle bones,
so thin and stiffly bent,
not meant for walking
running, hiking, biking,
or climbing up and down trees
(though those ghosts of the open road past come upon them
as they swing and twist, around and around.)
And the ground is so far below.
This nest isn’t soft.
A bed of needles and tubes
hard plastic loungers
that he tries to throw himself from
that he keeps sliding, falling out of,
hoping to reach the floor,
as his bird-legs claw out for a limb, scratching his way to some kind of escape.
He opens his mouth,
crying out for a drink.
Someone brings a dropper,
tipped in a dixie cup
a drop on an ocean of thirst.
Again, he looks like a frail little bird,
with beak wide open:
Feed me. Feed me. More. More.
A drop, it’s nothing. Not enough to swallow. And the ground is so far below.
There’s no water here.
There’s nothing but protection and shelter.
You can’t climb out of here, my bird man.
If you want to be free,
somehow
you’ve got to figure out flying.
56
This makes me cry. It also makes me feel blessed to be able to drink water to quench my thirst. Praying!
Allison,
What a beautiful but sad poem. You put it just like he appears with blogs and pix’s they are so great.
Keep it up and you will keep us laughing or crying.
Becky
Beautifully expressed
You moved me. So clear is this picture.
this post made me feel so sad …. sad for the loss of the Vern we loved so much..how trapped he must be feeling ..he was always a free bird flying , flying high where he wanted to fly..exploring the world ..coming home to the nest every now and then..to love and be loved .. will always love you dear brother ..whether you can fly high or not xx
xx love you all xx
A beautiful, powerful poem! Writing at its best – you say the things that can’t be said in any other way. And that have to be said! Not giving someone (a loved one especially)water when they beg for it is one of the hardest things a human can experience- because it goes against basic instincts. AND you are not necessarily aware how impossible it really is – you think you’re reacting to other things but its the water. Remember not drinking would kill you in days and we all know that – but normally we don’t think about it.
Wow. Beautifully said. Water. Something so basic and so important. To be denied for so long. I’d be throwing myself outta the nest too in search of it.
Oh Lord please bring miraculous healing to Vernon this week!
Bird man corresponds petfrctly to a homeopathic remedy I once gave Vernon. I have his notes, would you like them ? Love to you all….great big love….
Oh Allison what a heart felt poem saying so much. It definitely is a heart breaker but you always get the emotions out and go on to what needs to be done. We are thinking of you and Vernon so much lately! As you have learned only Big Love can cover this situation and we know its our Lord who gives you strength! Love, Joe and Nancy
Your poem expresses the raw reality of Vernon’s situation, and is beautifully written.
Thank you for sharing your family’s pain.I continue to pray for you all.