On Aging Loss, Fractured World
By Rhiannonw
- 2538 reads
Quick comprehension of road situations,
skilful control, assessing conditions,
traffic, and road signs, remembering routes,
a brain that’s alert, considers, computes.
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A kerb and a wing clipped, the centre line hugging,
even close journeys now seem so confusing,
looking at road maps, bewildering gaze –
why do they look like a puzzling maze?
Frustration and anger, unable to do
what seems half-familiar, the right role for you,
memories’ mixed-up, bad language once heard
comes out from the mouth as a sound so absurd.
Gone back into memories, – no, not delusion,
stability, comfort, when ‘now’ is confusion,
remembered routine, once a job well worth doing,
but losing the thought of just where you are going.
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A daughter, or son, a spouse or a sister –
sensitive, sad, but pausing to ponder
where the mind’s moved to, the memory connection,
make sense of what seems like irrational action.
A question repeated again, and again:
patience exhausted, incredible strain
– lateral comment may bring some relief,
for sometimes to answer just re-runs a grief.
The past seems so safe, and there’s longing for home,
but words of a future that’s perfect to come
can also be calming, encouraging hope,
and patience, so helping the troubled to cope.
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Comments
You sum up the situation
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Hi Rhiannonw :) Brilliant
Keep Smiling
Keep Writing xxx
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Nice poem, Rhiannonw. A
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Hi Rhiannon
Hi Rhiannon
Your poem reminded me of my father-in-law who became more and more senile after his wife died. On one occasion, he wanted to drive to Norwich, about 25 miles away. Somehow, after his stroke, his driving license had been renewed. He was so unfit for driving that it was unbelievable. So I went with him, and we spent the entire 25 miles in second gear. He insisted that it was the top gear, and got very angry with me when I insisted that we stop at a garage. While he went to pay for the gas, I asked the mechanic , to have a quick look at the engine, and tell him, that it was fixed now and should drive properly. Which he did, and my father-in-law drove perfectly from then on.
Anyway, I really enjoyed your poem, and agree with all you commented on in it.
Jean
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