Nursing home where I subbed for
The piano player.
He looked much younger than the
Silver crowned seniors with his bushy
Hair and beard.
I introduced myself to him and discovered
His name was John.
"Just like my brother's name," I told him.
"I don't want to be here," he spouted.
"I want out right now."
His mom sitting beside him tried to
Calm her son.
"You'll get out when you can walk."
She told me he'd had a stroke.
"I want out now," he repeated,
Adding a few curse words for emphasis.
I asked him, "Would you mind if I
Prayed with you?"
He didn't object, so I held his hand and
Prayed that God would give him peace.
"I don't have any peace. I want out right
Now," John insisted.
His mother was embarrassed by his
Outburst and patted his arm.
"It's hard for you, too," I told her.
She nodded.
My words seemed so paltry, like a few
Sprinkles on a drought ravaged farm field.
But I hope they at least sensed my concern.
I left them sitting there, both staring at
The air, and as much as I ached for
John, I ached just as much for his mother.