Dementia Is Cruel (a poem for my mother)

Dementia Is Cruel

DEMENTIA IS CRUEL

She’s alive,

Here but not here.

Somewhere – just not here.

I miss my mother.

Such joy,

When she recognizes me.

Her eyes light up again,

But for a moment.

Her essence remains though.

Timid, gentle, quiet.

The core of her –

That has not changed.

In her world, wherever that is,

She mostly seems content.

I hope she’s content.

It’s so hard to know for sure.

I miss my mother.

Dementia is cruel.

Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β Β Fern Glazier

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