#legless
Grace felt down
to feel her
two leg stumps;
her legs had
been cut off
or what was
left of them
once the bomb
had done its
worse during
the London
blitz. She felt
bandages,
felt the pain,
wriggled her
toes not there,
tried to think
them still there,
but they were
no longer
there, just space
where they were.
Grace couldn't
see, she was
blind; no sight
to see legs
not there now,
unable
to go ***
unaided;
that's what it
felt like to
her being
down graded.
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 6:09 PM UTC
They had unbandaged
her leg stumps.
Her blind eyes
saw only darkness.
She could hear their voices
and feel their fingers
and air on bare flesh.
She lay on her back
trying to make sense
of their words.
One spoke of healing
and another of measuring
for artificial limbs.
One voice
sounded Irish.
A young nurse
she assumed.
She replied to questions
they asked.
She lay there
quite exposed.
She wondered
if her maid
had suffered
in the bombing.
Clive whom she loved
and made love to
had died at Dunkirk
the year before.
One voice became distant
then disappeared.
The nurse(she assumed)
was attending the stumps.
Grace stared into
the blackness and heard
on the ward other
voices on the air.
She seemed
embraced
by the cold arms
of despair.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
After the wedding and small reception
Philip carries Grace over the threshold
of their new home. Iris the maid comes
behind them ready to help set Grace on
to her legs again. He sets Grace down
carefully with Iris's help. Grace stands on
her artificial legs balancing herself. They
walk into the lounge, Philip guiding her
along as her blind eyes stare into the room.
Wish I could see the room. Wish I could
see Philip and Iris. Philip takes Grace to
the settee and she sits down slowly. A home
again. Hope this one doesn't get bombed.
Well Grace you are home again, Philip says.
Yes, its good to be out of hospital and in
a new home, she says. He takes her hand.
Want you to know this is your new home
forever, he says. New home. I'll never see
it or him. Where's Iris? She says. She's putting
your clothes away in our bedroom, he says.
Bedroom. Bed. And he will want to make
love to me tonight. How will he be when
he sees me naked and legless? He's seen my
stumps, but never naked and half a woman.
She grabs his hand tight. You have never seen
me naked, what will you think when you see
me without clothes and legless? Will you really
want to make love to me? He leans in close
to her. Of course I will, I love you, Grace,
he says softly. But I am only half a woman,
a blind one too. She cries. He hugs her closer
to him. She can sense him near. You are a complete
woman to me, he says. Iris comes running into
the room. What's up? She says, going across to them.
Grace is worried about tonight, he says. Iris kneels
down beside Grace and whispers: you have your
husband who loves you madly and me to care for you
in all things I can. Grace cries as she has not done
for sometime. In her mind's eye she thinks of Clive
who died at Dunkirk the year before and who made
love to her before the bombing and his death. She
senses Philip kiss her cheek. And Iris's hand touching
her thigh. Now she wants to live, last year she wanted to die.
Sep 22, 2017
Sep 22, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC
Guy and Donald visit me
in the hospital grounds
where I sit in a wheelchair
in the warm sun.
My blind eyes
look towards each one
as they speak.
Philip's away
a few days
he told us
but he'll be back
within the week
Guy says.
Where has he gone?
I ask.
Can't say
hush hush
but he'll be back
Guy says.
Back safe
Donald adds.
Where is safe
in this war?
Good point
Guy says
taking my hand
but he will back.
How are you
getting along?
Donald says.
I am to be measured
for artificial legs
I am told
I say.
That'd be good
Guy says
back on your
feet again.
Not my feet though
I reply
I'll have to fit them
on each day
and take them off
at night before bed.
You'll manage
Guy says
you are
a determined woman
who knows her mind.
Am I?
not sure I have
that mind any more
lost my legs
and my sight
and Clive.
Someone up there
has it in for me
I say.
Yes the Germans
Donald says
and you will
show them
you have courage
and will not
let them
see you down.
I wipe my eyes
with a handkerchief
from my
dressing gown pocket.
Shall we push you
around the grounds?
Guy says.
It is all
the same to me
I can't see anything
I say.
It is silent
for a few moments.
Look Grace
we have to go
keep your chin up
Guy says.
Yes be strong
Donald says.
Then they go
after kissing my cheek
and I sit feeling
undone and weak.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:11 AM UTC
Life changing
the Blitz bomb
took my sight
and my legs.
Clive gone too
at Dunkirk.
I recall
our last kiss
as the train
left London.
I sit in
this darkness.
Hospital
smells around
and voice sounds.
Morning Grace
a voice says.
My blind eyes
turn around
to the sound.
Who is it?
I enquire.
Doctor Clay
I have come
to see you
and see how
your stumps are
the voice says.
They're painful
I tell him.
Nurse we need
Grace to be
lying down.
Between them
they lift me
on the bed.
Fingers lift
my nightdress
and unwrap
bandages.
Fresh air hits
the leg stumps.
His fingers
examine
what is left
of my legs.
They're healing
very well
he tells me.
Soon we will
have someone
sort you out
for new legs
he informs.
I thank him.
He goes off
and the nurse
(small fingered)
now attends
to some fresh
bandages.
As her fingers
touch my thighs
I recall
Clive touching
me there too
that last time
before he left
for the War.
I stare out
into dark
cold spaces
and a far
away shore.
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
I hear birds singing
and feel the warm sun
on my uplifted face,
I have been wheeled
into the grounds
of the hospital
I hear voices of others
I cannot see
my blind eyes turn
in the direction of sound,
I still have Philip's words
about marriage in my ears
and it unsettles me
as we hardly
know each other
and I without sight or legs
would be a burden on him
and I do not want his pity
although he says it is love,
I have told no one
about his proposal
it seems too unsettling
to talk about it yet
but I sit here
and look into darkness
and feel empty inside
as if I have opened a door
and blackness entered into me
and I feel lost,
I am dependant on others
on things which others
cope with on their own
and when they will and can
while I have to be taken places
and lifted or carried
to the toilet or bath,
I hear someone talk
as they pass by
another replies
far off the hum
of traffic
and a nearby laugh.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
As I turn my blind eyes
to the sun(I feel its warmth),
I think of the Degas paintings
that Clive took me to see
at a London gallery: the
colours and the figures and
the shades of blues and pinks.
Now it is just a memory, and
as I sit here in the hospital
grounds in the wheelchair,
I have a sudden panic knowing
I will never see again, never
see a rainbow or see a blossom
or see the sunrise, and know
that Clive will never come again,
not since his death at Dunkirk,
and that last kiss, that last time
of making love, and I know I
shall never make love again,
and feel with my hands to where
my legs used to be, and feel
the bandaged stumps, and feel
them there, my fingers moving
over them. The sun is still warm
on my head, and when I turn my
face to the sun, I sense a kiss from
a while ago, and will I kiss again?
I ask myself and I want to know.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
I am lifted
by two nurses;
(I hear them
talk to each other)
and stare at each in turn
with my blind eyes,
hoping they won't
drop me.
They lay me
on a trolley,
and then push me
on the trolley past others,
and voices and sounds
coming and going.
Where are we going ?
I ask.
To see Doctor Quinn,
he wants to see
how the leg stumps
are healing,
a nurse says
close to me.
How are my stumps?
I ask.
They seem to be
healing quite well,
a nurse says,
but the doctor wants
to see for himself.
I lie quiet after that
and we enter
a warmer room,
and I grab sounds
as I pass
trying to make
a picture in my mind
about where we are.
We come to a standstill,
and a man's voice says:
ah, Miss Meadows,
I am Doctor Quinn,
I am here to examine
your leg stumps
to see how
they are healing.
I say nothing;
I just nod my head,
and wait.
I sense his fingers
unwrap the bandages,
and I feel his fingers
near my skin;
he removes the bandages,
and fresh air
hits my skin.
Yes they look fine,
he says,
his fingers touch me,
lifts the stumps
one after the other:
I think we can soon
decide about maybe
artificial legs.
Artificial legs?
I say,
imagining
god knows what.
You will need
to learn how
to walk again
in a sense of course,
he says,
but it will come
and we will have you
on your feet again
I am sure,
he says,
but it will be a time
as there is a huge demand
at the moment
in wartime for them
as you can appreciate,
he adds,
not giving me a chance
to speak.
Right nurse
re-bandage
fresh bandages,
and keep
the stumps clean.
He goes
and I lie there
thinking and looking
into darkness
with a dumb stare.
Oct 26, 2016
Oct 26, 2016 at 4:29 AM UTC
Guy and Philip
are with me
on the grass
in the hospital grounds.
I'm in a wheelchair,
they are nearby.
I hear them,
but not see them
with my blind eyes,
but look in their direction.
Take me?
I ask.
A car ride
into the countryside
for a picnic,
Guy says.
And where am I to go
if the call of nature comes?
I say.
I'm sure there'll be
a inn nearby or hotel
for you to use,
Guy says.
And who will help me
and carry me
without my legs?
I say,
becoming annoyed.
There is silence.
Never thought of that,
says Philip,
touching my hand
(I assume it
is Philip).
It is bad enough in here
with nurses around
to get attention
and get there on time,
let alone
in some countryside,
I say.
Yes sorry about that, Grace,
Guy says,
back to the drawing board.
Maybe we will
have to settle
for somewhere nearer,
Philip says.
St James Park is nearest,
I say,
there will be fine.
They agree
and we are silent
for a few moments.
How are you coping?
Guy asks suddenly,
leaning closer to me.
Not easy being blind
and without legs,
stuck in hospital
until I can find
somewhere to live
and a nurse or someone
to help me,
I say,
looking in the direction
of Guy's voice.
The bombing has left
a lot of people homeless,
Philip says,
maybe once your stumps
have healed sufficiently
you can stay
at my place,
I can arrange
for a nurse or two
to attend you.
Live with you?
What would people
say to that?
I say.
As a guest,
he says,
all above board
nothing underhand.
I look towards
his voice.
We'll have to see
how things go,
I reply,
thank you Philip.
They talk of other things;
I listen:
talk of the War
and bombings
and Churchill's speeches
and rationing
and so on.
I think of another life
when I could dance
and see and make love
to Clive before
his death at Dunkirk,
and that last time
we had ***
and it was so hot,
and now I feel
utterly depressed
that I can't be bothered
to listen
to the rest.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 3:55 AM UTC
How was
St James' Park,
Grace?
A nurse asks me
as I sit
in a wheelchair
by my bed.
I turn my blind eyes
towards her:
good to go out
and smell
and hear
London out
of this ward,
I say.
She tucks in
the blanket around
my bandaged leg stumps.
You look better now,
the sun has caught you,
she says,
anything
I can get you?
New legs and eyes?
I say.
Eyes not possible,
but legs maybe
once your stumps
have healed
there is a good chance,
she replies.
I sense her
near me.
Sorry if I am
in a mood,
I say,
I think that man Philip
is trying to propose
or something like it
and I'm not ready
for that now.
She touches
my hand:
give it time
there are more
difficult times ahead
to worry about
than that,
she says.
She goes:
I hear her shoes
on the floor
going away from me.
I sense tears
in my eyes;
I stare into darkness.
Why would he
want me?
What future would he
have with me now?
Not pity
I couldn't have
someone marry
out of pity,
I mutter to myself.
I reach down
and touch my leg stumps
with my fingers
to make sure
they are still there
and I haven't
grown legs
or maybe it is
a dream or nightmare.
They are there
and the reality
of the legs gone
thumps my breast,
my heart.
I grab the sides
of the wheelchair
and bang them
with my hands
and break down
and cry
and say
why?
why?
why?
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
Just when you think
your mind has accepted
a situation, it betrays you,
and asks: why have you
lost your legs and are blind?
And how will you cope
and gives a picture
of many mornings,
when you will wake up,
and see nothing again,
never see a sunset or sunrise,
never walk or dance again,
and it brings you down
and depresses you.
When I wake up
this morning,
that is how it is,
that numb darkness,
that disorientation,
that lostness.
I hear footsteps
on the ward,
near my bed.
Morning Grace,
how are you
this morning?
Who are you?
I ask.
Sister Wellings,
come to see how you are,
she says.
Depressed and fed up,
I say,
putting on a grumpy face,
staring towards where
I think she is.
Not surprised at that,
she says,
I'd be depressed
and fed up, too,
if I lost my legs
and was blind,
but you are a fighter,
Grace and will
overcome this just
give it time.
How much time?
I ask.
I sense her hands
move the bed covers back,
and her fingers
feel along
the bandaged leg stumps.
As long as it takes,
she says,
I was on a ward last month
where we had soldiers
wounded at Dunkirk.
Did you?
I say,
my boyfriend died at Dunkirk.
The thought wounds me,
and I almost choke
on the following words:
we were going marry.
O God, how sad
and now this,
she says,
as her fingers
take off the bandages.
I feel her hands
move over the stumps.
They're healing well,
she says,
soon have
the bandages off completely.
I recall Clive
touching my thighs,
and his fingers moving over
where she moves now.
Then what?
I say,
can I have artificial legs?
Of course,
I expect in time,
she says.
I try to imagine
walking on legs
not mine,
trying to balance
and trying to imagine
Philip watching me
and wondering what
he would think then,
and would he
then just be a man
amongst men?
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 2:24 AM UTC
I am wheeled
into the sunlight
(being blind
it is the sun
I feel not see)
and am placed on the grass.
A voice says:
I'll be back for you
later Grace;
if you need to ***
call out.
She is gone,
and I am left
to my darkness
and sunshine's warmth.
I reach down
and feel along my thighs
to where the leg stumps begin;
bandaged up
and feeling painful.
I touch the end
with my shaking fingers
wishing I had my legs again
and could dance
with Clive one more,
but he is dead
in War's hold.
I am here staring
into blackness,
hearing voices from afar,
and a slight breeze
********* my hair.
Philip was good to me
at the dinner date,
patient and kind,
even when I was moody
and tired and sensed
others staring at me
in the restaurant as I sat
there propped up
in my chair
like some broken doll.
Excuse me,
a voice says to my right:
what happened to you?
How'd you lose your legs?
I turn to gaze at the place
of the voice,
female,
young sounding.
Caught in a bombing
in the Blitz,
I say.
Shame that;
lost my house
and my mum and dad
and I was out at work,
she says.
Sorry to hear that,
I say,
wondering who she is
and what she's doing here.
Why are you here?
I say.
She gets nearer to me:
got burnt when the jam factory
I worked in got bombed
and the fecking jam
and sugar sprayed on us;
some were killed,
but I survived,
she says.
How awful,
I say.
I feel tired,
and depressed,
and wish to heck
she'd go away.
Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Comment allez-vous?
Someone asks me in French.
I am in pain, I reply
in my remembered
schoolgirl French,
facing the area
the voice comes from,
searching out
with my right hand,
my blind eyes stare,
wondering who was there.
Je suis ici pour
voir vos blessures,
she says.
I feel her hand,
small and soft.
She holds my hand gently.
You are here
for my wounds?
I say, wondering
if I heard her correctly,
my French not as
good as hers.
Oui,
she says.
She lets go
of my hand,
and lifts up
my nightgown,
and feels my leg stumps,
her fingers touching
as she moves.
She undoes
the bandages slowly,
unwrapping each leg stump,
then I sense the air,
and feel her fingers
on my skin.
I recall Clive
touching me there,
his fingers moving
my thighs,
his kisses there.
Ils sont la guérison,
she says.
They are healing?
I say,
unable to see,
but they still hurt,
I utter
in my poor French.
La douleur va persister
pendant un certain temps,
she says,
rubbing gently over
the area where
the wounds are.
How long will
they pain me?
I say.
She says it will be
a while, and then
re-wraps the bandages,
and pulls down
my nightgown.
Then she goes.
I hear voices
over the way,
a bell rings.
I lie there,
wondering what
will happen next,
remembering Clive
making love to me
that last time
before he left for War.
I feel with my fingers,
the wounds,
aching,
sore.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 9:28 AM UTC
After being washed
and dressed in fresh nightclothes
and my hair brush
I am wheeled out
into the sunshine
outside the ward
and sit here listening
to the sounds about me
and smelling the flowers
I cannot see
and feeling an itch
in my toes which
I do not have
all alone?
a voice says
to my right
Philip?
Yes
the voice replies
how are you?
I turn and face where
his voice comes from
coping about
I say putting out
a hand to touch him
and feel his hands
and he takes mine
and kisses it
how was the red dress?
Beautiful or so
I am told
but I tried it on
and it felt beautiful
against my skin
and the new underwear
I say shyly
not knowing
if he blushes or not
he holds my hand
for a while longer
and says
I'm glad
sorry I couldn't be here
to see you in the dress
but I had been called away
work business
part of the War effort
he says but says no more
I see
I say
the nurse helped me
with the dress
and other items
I've never been so intimate
with some one
I can't see
the nurse I mean
she dresses me
and washes me
and all that private stuff
I add
I'm trying to arrange
a date for me
to take you out to dinner
he says
but the doctors
are uncertain yet
but it will happen
before you outgrow the dress
with being too well
looked after and fed
we are talking
about hospital food here
I say and laugh
and he laughs
and it reminds me
of Clive and how
he made me laugh that night
after going out to the dance
and he tickled me
to nigh wetting-point
and told me this joke
which had me in stitches
then we made love
and as I think about him
and the love making
I clutch out and grab
Philip's hand
and hold it tight
and want at that moment
for him to make love to me
no sight
no legs and all
just to have me
but I say nothing
just stare into darkness
and put on a smiling face
I say
maybe soon they'll
let me go out with you
he leans forward
and he kisses my forehead
with his warm lips
and says
yes hope so
you've been here
on the ward
for quite a while now
since the bombing night
Clive died at Dunkirk
I say suddenly
tears fill my eyes
Philip holds me
and I sense his body
close to mine
and I wish I had legs
and could get up
out of the wheelchair
but I can't and sit here
being held and kissed
and it's Clive
and legs
and sight
and life free
that I miss
and is missed.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:16 AM UTC
I remember
it was after
the night dancing
and my legs ached
and we came back
Clive and I to my house
and after a few drinks
we went to bed
and I recall how alive
he made me feel
and I can distinctly
sense him entering me
and o it was so hot
and now it's dark
and my legs ache
and someone
is rubbing them
and I know it is morning
by the rush and bustle
and I am on
the hospital bed
and I'm blind
and my leg stumps
are being rubbed
by someone
a nurse
but why do I feel
so alive?
but I can't see
and feel only
half me
and I can't hold
Clive again as he died
in Dunkirk
and I sense the hands
rubbing my stumps
and the hands are soft
and the darkness
has an encroaching feel
and I want to be
and love still
but am here stuck
on this bed
with countless dreams
and thoughts
in my just awake head.
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC