The Woman on the Other Side of the Screen
By Ewan
- 2786 reads
There are no names here,
in the digital make-believe of Skype,
where I can see a woman,
who used to be my mother.
My sainted sister says my name,
finger pointed into the tablet screen
to where my face can be seen
but not recognised.
So I shout, the data freeze
makes my name unintelligible
- but it doesn’t matter, really -
it falls on deaf ears.
I make faces, childish I know,
but it makes her laugh:
she’ll make faces too,
both are better than tears.
A ramble may begin,
my sister will follow
- better than I -
into the darkness of speech.
I pick out two phrases,
“When” and “Going home”
but they are surrounded
by disjunctive words.
These rambles career
from decade to decade
colliding with names I don’t know
and slang words from a past long gone.
After twenty minutes of gestures
I wave my goodbyes
and my mother blows me kisses,
as though I were a mis-remembered beau.
The mouse clicks and the screen goes dark:
how cruel it is, that my mother wanders
in the same curséd forest
where my father, too, was lost.
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Comments
So sad for you, but maybe she
So sad for you, but maybe she is not troubled so much by it. When it first starts the confusion seems more disturbing for the person themselvs.. My mother-in-law started calling my husband Mr Keith, and it seemed linked with thinking of him as her carer having got her into the Home where she is happy. The seamless moving from story to story and era to era can be shocking at first, and must be more difficult over Skype.
There seems enjoyment at seeing you and the kisses imply some deeper recognition? Rhiannon
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So sorry. We had the same
So sorry. We had the same scenario over hearing aids, and attempting large print writing. My son plays music to her, which she seems to hear better! Rhiannon
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Such a moving poem. So sorry
Such a moving poem. So sorry that your mum has this cruel, cruel disease too. It's our Pick of the Day. Do share this powerful poem if you can.
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"...how cruel it is, that my
"...how cruel it is, that my mother wanders
in the same curséd forest
where my father, too, was lost." It is a cruel situation. Your poem captures a familiar sequence for many, I suspect. Adroit and moving. Paul
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Deeply moving
Very best to you Ewan
Lena x
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Dark forest is the perfect
Dark forest is the perfect description - where my Dad lived, behind the house, was a woods I used to go in every day. He only went there to collect fallen wood for the fire, he had a wood shed and knew how old everything was in there, which logs were from which tree, where they came from. It was part of his "providing" ethic. The last time I visited when he was able to walk round the woods, we went together, but the woods was so different to how I remembered - holly had sprung up everywhere and all the paths I had walked with my dog had gone. My brother had got him a dog then, and so he had started going into the woods for walks. He had been trying to mark his way by laying sticks to point the right direction, but it was horrible, I was scared, not knowing where I was and surrounded by dark dense prickles, and he enjoyed showing me his new ways he had made, holding onto his reassuring, resourceful self. But it was like what was going on in his head, all the paths disappearing, and him having to leave notes everywhere in the house. And the last time I saw him he could not speak, and drifted away.I am not sure he knew me, and it was as if he was on the other side of a prickly hedge and couldn't get out. I am so sorry about your Mum
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I'm so sorry about your mum
I'm so sorry about your mum Ewan - like Rhiannon I hope she doesn't mind as much as you do - I suppose that's the only thing we can cling onto in these circumstances. It's a horrible horrible thing for you to see though, and I'm really pleased this has golden cherries. It should be shared far and wide
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This is our Poem of the Week
This is our Poem of the Week - Congratulations!
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a disenchanted forest of
a disenchanted forest of feelings, indeed
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So beautiful
So beautiful and so moving Ewan. Gayle
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This is our Poem of the Month
This is our Poem of the Month - Congratulations!
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