DEMENTIA

I am, all that exists is: this window.
Lost faces empty, a blur of pity.
Know this creaking frame of wood as my bones;
Glass besmeared by unknown fingers, like me.

The curtains are my mother’s love: heavy.
I think the birds are my children’s lost calls.
I love the bare garden through the glass, he
Is my husband, soon too I will be the soil.

They visit sometimes, shadows forgotten,
Block my dear window to keen their grief.
They want the worms from my skull, cold rotten.
They are birds, sing lullabies lost, then leave.

Memories threaten to shatter everything.
The birds want me always singing.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “DEMENTIA

  1. Thanks for following my blog, much appreciate it. This is a subject i will write about in the future,as i have a relative that suffers with dementia. I didn’t find this poem difficult to follow as you suggested, great words.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s