OK, I am breaking the rules.....who makes the rules....someone else. Sorry Kerry. I tried three times to write a dementia piece because this like many is near and dear to my heart and couldn't come up with one that was as good as the one I wrote not long ago. Sooooo...let the pants down spankings begin. I will not go down without a fight but I won't make it a habit either. This was written when my mother in law was battling Alzheimers...tricky stuff. This for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads...
There
is a place to go
And
we all go, we do… go
Where
the beige wall is painted
A
violent red
The
dark spot
A
cancer on an otherwise healthy heart
Is
real in comparison
To
a birthday party, or an anniversary dinner
We
dig with a new spade
And
then cover what we have found
The
smell of foul and sour earth
Discoveries,
shadowy and veiled but solid in the mind
The
line is thin
So
thin that every word is complacent
Thin
as winter lips, cracked and dry
And
we dance, hoping someone will throw some water
Careworn
hands and eyes filled with lust
Where
are you now? Who are you now?
Don’t
look in the mirror
The
reflection is you, pointing at you
Don’t
worry my child
The
colors black and purple are everywhere
Your
place, this place, is special
Let’s
have a picnic, let’s have a cry
Darkness
fades as the light rises and cuffs
Picking up the dishes of our
meal
Walking
and walking back to what
To
everything that everyone wants us to be
