POEM: A Walker, Please

My Dad got out of the hospital yesterday, after falling on his butt and crushing a vertebrae and a disc last week. After a successful surgery to stabilize his back and reduce the pain, he was transferred to the assisted living unit (“The Harbors”) of the independent living community that he resides in. By the time the hospital discharged him and arranged transport, it was after 5 pm when he arrived. He was prescribed a walker, but the appropriate staff was not available “after hours” to professionally fit him for a walker. So, the staff told him in bureaucratic detail why they could not provide him a walker as ordered. This was unsatisfactory and unsatisfying, to say the least. To make a long story short, I skulked about and found the rehab room unlocked, where there was a pile of dozens of walkers just wading for a purpose in life. I borrowed one and snuck it back into his room. Fortunately, after the deed was done, the staff were fine with such a miraculous delivery. I was glad to leap the seemingly impassable chasm between talking the talk and walking the walk. This poetic act simply assures that my Dad is both suitably equipped and quipped.

A Walker, Please

Exiting a hospitality
Of a different kind
And still
Needing to ambulate
He sought safe harbor
With a prescription
For an assistive device
Abetting man
To take crucial steps
In rehabilitation
Of this nursing homme
Of which he got their too late
Except for their can’t do attitude
Unable to bring to heal
Such a bureaucratic chasm
Only making cross
Bye talking the talk
Such a spiritual infirmity
Incompatible with his physic
Begging to walk the walk
Fortunately, that kin due
Was awe ready there
The walker you want
To sea in the whirled
And safe harbor secure
Feat away
In a soulless rehab space
Was a stock pile
In riched by dear departed patience
Of dry bones crying out
For the most skeletal of purposes
Wading there
For even the sparsest of flesh
As say an 89-year-owed
Holding up
Yet won more time
As in this instant
The son shines
Through such murky daze
In an end run
Bye not just
Talking the talk
But walking the walk
In a we weigh
No bones about it
As order doctored
Heal and tow
The possible now
Fully quipped

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