She sheds memories
like dandruff
and as we brush
away the flakes of her,
she loses us.
She squints through
vast blankness with
vague intensity,
“Who are you?”
Her life drifts
in and out
on images as tenuous
as imagination.
Thus, mother transforms
into a mesh of
our memories of her,
even as her memories
drift into fog.
.
.
.
.
I see sweet ladies at the Extended Care unit, who are lost to themselves. So sad for them and their children. I’m thankful that my parents both hold tightly to their memories.
Shawn L. Bird 
too too real much too real so much is so hard
Yes.
This is a lovely poem. Very evocative. I used to be an interfaith/non-sectarian hospital chaplain, working mostly with elders-with-dementia. A profound experience.
Thank you for “liking” my blog post today.
All the best,
Emily Hancock
St Brigid Press
Afton, Virginia
It must have been a melacholy experience, Emily. I have volunteered at extended care units at various times over my life. Thanks for the compliment on the poem.
Melancholy, yes, at times. But it was also, and more fundamentally, a profound encounter with what it means to be human. As much as it was an experience of all that can be lost, it was an experience of what remains and still brings meaning to our fragmentary lives. (I think often of the woman with whom I sat each week and who recited poem-after-poem by Emily Dickinson, who still rejoiced in the language, in the deep connection of that. And there were many more individuals like her…) I’ll bet you tasted that, too, in your work with elders. It’s such an honor to spend time that way, with those hearts…
Thanks again, and all the best,
Emily
You have a tremendous way with words Shawn. You make them dance for you. xxx Hugs xxx
What a lovely compliment, David! Thank you.
That’s both brutal and beautiful
Thank you.
Very intense and wonderfully expressed!
Thank you!
“She squints through
vast blankness with
vague intensity,…”
quite effective. I think writing poetry helps some of us shed painful experiences and remember the joyful.
Ellespeth
Indeed
Reblogged this on My Blog snuppy.
i lost mine, too, while she was still alive, but for maybe different reasons. very good work. moving.
I’m sorry to hear that. Thanks for your kind words.