BEHIND THE MADMAN'S EYES

BEHIND THE MADMAN'S EYES

I have looked long and hard into the eyes
of a mental patient sitting quiet and alone,
wondering if there could be a chance of him
one day returning to a long-forgotten home,

Behind the madman's eyes there shines
a distant memory of what there used to be.
Then the light goes out and his darkness falls,
he looks with a blank stare, way past me.

I wonder if he will ever again know that he
was once a man with a heart of pure gold,
that he would do anything for anyone at all;
now he is broken, lost and very, very old.

He sleeps at times when there is quiet
and his eyes move beneath heavy lids,
perhaps he dreams of the golden days
when he had a wife and two little kids.

The driver of the car that took his family
on a day long ago was drunk, they say.
He would never be the same after that,
his world was shattered, turned to clay.

I feed him dinner when he wakes up
and I gently wash his face and hands.
I do whatever it takes to comfort him
and try to see to all of his demands.

I have looked long and hard into his eyes
and I know there is no peace to find.
Violent and striking out at the past hurts
that still linger within his tormented mind.

If you really want to try to understand
how anyone could see how hard he tries,
you only have to look long and hard
for what's behind the madman's eyes.

Countrymom
1/02/07