Written for:  Friday Writings #19 - Of Age and Aging and Such . . .

Marion is unaware
of the cruelty,
and senseless
violence in our
world.  She is
unable to speak,
but her expressive
liquid golden
eyes question
and plead for help.
Why am I unable
to walk–my legs
wobble, are bent.
Why does my head
list to one side
like a child's
broken doll.  Marion
has been with me
for fifteen years–
a joy, a blessing.
Does she know
this is the end
of her life? 

About purplepeninportland

I am a freelance poet, born and bred in Brooklyn, New York. I live with my husband, John, and two charming rescue dogs–Marion Miller and Murphy. We spent eight lovely years in Portland, OR, but are now back in New York. My goal is to create and share poetry with others who write, or simply enjoy reading poetry. I hope to touch a nerve in you, and feel your sparks as well.
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19 Responses to Marion

  1. Oh, that is deeply affecting … and troubling. I too wonder, now, about the answer to your question.


  2. Sadje says:

    Very touching.


  3. Eugenia says:

    Poignant and very touching.


  4. Helen Dehner says:

    Dear Sara, I traveled back in time to read posts about Marion and Murphy. It’s heartwarming to read of your rescue efforts … an additional insight into the ‘world of Sara.’ Instinctively I fell in love with Marion.


  5. VJ says:

    I spent many years working with high needs, low functioning children – this poem struck a chord


  6. magicalmysticalteacher says:

    A heart-rending poem!


  7. Cressida says:

    Yes I think they know when the end is coming….too too sad….


  8. J Beames says:

    As this brings up memories of my own lost ones, I remember the best of them and I hope they remember the best of me.
    Thank you for sharing this as it helps.


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