Stroke Room Trilogy--part 3

It must be frustrating:
A nine-month old screams.
Mom signs,
Do you want more?
Mom gives another  perfunctory sign.
Baby screams again.
She knows which one
works better.

Great grandfather looks ok
but over half his body
doesn’t work.
Obviously not a problem
to small children
trying to contain
the dynamo within.

A three word sentence from Grandpa
seems an ordeal.
Older sister can’t stop talking.
Grandpa is surrounded by all of this.
Love lays in frustration,
machines pulsating with his rhythm.

Machines get him.
Everyone else, not so much.
He hears us.  He senses us.
He always has, although
in part he is one with the
Whir of machines.

Life as it gets younger
can be very loud.
Perhaps we get softer
as we age,
But life, even three words of it,
can tell us what we need
to hear.

There are dynamics.
There is frustration.
Life and love surround the room
And pulse through it.
We don’t hear words
as much as we hear life.