My Grandfather’s Eyes

My Grandfathers eyes are
The only way I can tell if his
Medication has been doubled
On the days they’ve upped it
He looks younger—child like
“Where am I?” He asks.
His eyes are wide open and fearful
“You’re in a hospital, Grandpa,” I say.
I stare deep into his eyes holding
My glance to reassure him
He searches my clear eyes for an explanation
I don’t give him one because in
A few minutes he’ll go to
Sleep, wake up again, and forget
That I was ever there
One the days his meds are
Low you can see the pain
In his eyes. They are hardly
Open and glazed over. They
Sit there, unwelcoming the world around him.
It’s on these days that I cry.
But I don’t let my Grandfather see
He always remembers my eyes as
Alive, awake, and dancing
With the promise of getting discharged tomorrow.


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