What Do You See?

Are you thinking when you look at me,

A crabbit old woman, not very wise,

Uncertain of habit with far away eyes;

Who dribbles her food and makes no reply,

When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try."

Who seems not to notice the things that you do,

And forever is losing a stocking or shoe;

Who quite unresisting, lets you do as you will,

With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill;

Is this what you're thinking, is that what you see?

Then open your eyes, you're not looking at me;

I'll tell you who I am as I sit here so still;

As I move at your bidding, as I eat at your will;

I'm a small child of ten with a father and mother,

Brothers and sisters who love one another;

A young girl of sixteen with wings on her feet,

Dreaming that soon now a lover she'll meet

A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap,

Remembering the vows that I promised to keep;

At twenty-five now I have young of my own

Who need me to build a secure, happy home;

A woman of thirty, my young now grown fast,

Bound to each other with ties that should last;

At forty my young sons will soon all be gone,

But my man is beside me to see I don't mourn;

At fifty, once more babies play round my knee,

Again we know children my loved one and me;

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead,

I look at the future, I shudder with dread;

For my young are all busy with young of their own

And I think of the years and the love that I've known;

I'm an old woman now and nature is cruel,

'Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool;

The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart,

There is now a stone where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass a young girl still dwells,

And now and again my battered heart swells,

I remember the joys, I remember the pain,

I'm loving and living life over again;

I think of the years all too few, gone too fast

And accept the stark fact that nothing can last.

So. Open your eyes, open and see

Not a crabbit old woman, look closer-see me.

By

Phyllis McCormack