she sits in the care home
and she’s not been hugged
for eight months,
for her protection;
not had her hands held
by her son or daughter
whose hands she held
for their protection
when crossing a road,
trudging to school over frozen snow
or just strolling in the summer park;
whom she hugged tight to herself
through the childhood tumbles and bruises,
the frights and fears, the nightmares.
Imprisoned now for her own protection
by the rules and regulations,
she descends further into dementia,
as the carers care for her, protect her;
but she has not been hugged
for eight months,
sees her son and daughter through a screen,
not held their hands
for how long now!
How long?
