Poem for Dad in his old nursing home

He has been in a nursing home for about 9 months, and dreadfully unhappy and depressed about it. Of course this is one of the reasons I have not written as much as I would have liked, I have been very preoccupied with the whole situation. I am using the writing as therapy, I think.

Stefan at the Nursing Home

I don't want to write this poem
I don't want to see him
He sits there wilting forward, head bowed, as if he's praying
But he's fallen asleep, in his wheel chair.

I hate to see him like this
I hate feeling so helpless
Him feeling angry, undignified and out of control
And he's fallen asleep, in his wheel chair.

I took him to the dining room
Where he tries to eat squashed carrots, something sloppy and white
And something that passes for meat
But he's fallen asleep, in his wheel chair.

I get out the iPod shuffle and
Shove the earphones in his ears
It plays the old tunes from his home land, languid laments and sad songs
Then he wakes with a smile, in his wheel chair.

He tried to kill himself last week
But he's so feeble he never succeeds
So he's angry, frustrated, just wants to go home
And he's fallen asleep, in his wheel chair

He's becoming a nuisance
To the nurses and their assistants
There aren't enough to watch him all night, and when he wanders they wish
That he'd fallen asleep, in his wheel chair.

And still,
I don't want to write this poem
I don't want to see him like this.

There is a happier postscript to this situation, in that we have managed to move him to a different nursing home just this week, where he is much, much happier.