Where has she gone,
Is it far is it near?
What has she heard?
Voices loud voices clear.
Makeup and ice,
Water and cake,
That girl over there,
Oh that’s a mistake!
Words after words,
Some struggle, some true.
A lifetime of memories,
Now are her enemies.
Unassembled, Disarrayed,
Not forming properly,
Makes her dismayed.
Who am I?
Even in the fog she knows.
This can not break,
The love that she shows.
In November of 08, mom had been very ill. I was not able to give her her meds during this time, and they were no longer in her system. The result of this, as she began to feel better, was a night of babbling going on. We realized we were actually seeing what the dementia had done to her mind, and how the effects of her meds had subdued and camouflaged them. I listened to her babble that night, through the monitor, and at 3 a.m., I got up and wrote this poem.
