I visited someone in this assisted-living home yesterday. This poem came rushing back to me.

In a dim light...

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…

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