I visited someone in this assisted-living home yesterday. This poem came rushing back to me.
A Small Upper Window
A light is seen through the treetops A small window on an upper floor It’s late Someone must be reading Or can’t sleep Perhaps an attendant is there The building looms in the dark Like a castle Sitting on a hill Stone Stories tall and a block long But that one small window … there’s a light on I imagine a castle keep A safe place, caring, secure Or a tower A prisoner’s room, lonely, confined Possibly either or both Only the occupant knows on a particular day Maybe that’s my room someday In that old nursing home on the hill How will I see things? Filled with hope and gratitude or despair? Grace-filled or having been forsaken? In peaceful surrender or stubborn resistance? That light, that window So peaceful looking Against that immense silhouette Light does that to darkness Even the…View original post 12 more words
In a dim light... 
Leave a Reply