Alzheimer’s
1
At first the fog rolls in,
And it is like glaucoma of the mind
with everything
appearing fuzzy around the edges,
Still I retain
my power of navigation.
2
Now I can only go
to the wall I scale.
Sometimes getting higher than others.
I find myself atop once in a while
enjoying the sunrise,
Concurrently fearing its setting
for each time
may be my last somewhat clear day.
3
Finally trapped, my head
becomes a box.
Unaware, I sit in the dark
silently trying,
connecting the fragments of my mind
as my tomorrows slip away.
-
Author:
RL Randall (
Offline) - Published: May 21st, 2022 11:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: Saxon Crow
Offline)
Comments2
Very beautiful. My grandmother died years ago from Alzheimer’s and this really connects with me. Watching the stages as they slowly progress. Not terrible everyday. Some days worse than others. Only there was nothing to stop its progression, terrible disease. Thank you for this!
I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother. And you are right it is a terrible disease, I was trying to catch the stages from looking from the inside out. This was done through my observation of people with disease while working. I am glad you were able to connect with this piece.
What a beautiful and respectful poem RL. Such a terrible disease.
Thank you, I have learned the best way to be respectful is through understanding. With this piece, I was trying to understand.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.