Love, Dementia

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Remember.
You loved, remember
When, you loved
How you were loved
When love was first
Born in you

Your first born
Loves you, remember
When you loved
Young love was born in you
Once, remember

Love,
Dementia

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Just One More

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Just One More

Is there room for one more

In a world of crowded words and broken hearts

Why tell another story of the fiery nighttime light

Am I right

Or am I wrong to write another

Poem about the moon
Many will not remain to hear

Captivated
by his winsome wooing,
he carried me from the warmth that was my night

In the quiet of our home
in the quiet of my heart, I heard him speak in muted tones

Many married, many longer, many sit
hip to hip
shouldered
by the night

And we
belie our age with our posture
Heads of every shade of grey
more akin to two
retiring into

Their final moonlit night

Of life

We

Seek nothing loftier
Than the
Fullness of our moon

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And so if I fail
To write this poem, to which the world may not respond

One more word gift, packaged by a poet’s bow
that the world
may not want, nor read nor need

About the moon and me

And you

Then it is I who die a little as I live

Let fizzle out
the gift

That was your whispered words

Let them fall into a world, cold and dark

Burn out like every other love that lost its fire

Flame extinguished  by
cruel ignorance
of the simple needs of love

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Just one more
maybe just for me

A poem about the moon and you

And how you spoke
gently

Into our love
on one bliss-filled winter’s night

The poets cannot stay away

From subjects on the moon and love

But neither can the moon

Good company, I am in

When I am held so sweetly
by both the moon

and you

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I may never know

If I was right or I was wrong

But I will know
that I was

Simply, loved by you
In the winter
Of our love

Once more

For The Quiet Ones, The Tired Ones, The Hardworking Ones, The Aging Ones: Thank-You

Thank you for joining me as I write out my gratitude, framing it through the lens of poetry. Today is Day Three.
(Joining Tweetspeak Poetry for their poetry prompt this week: Whittles and Wood)

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Tired

Shavings
Sit piled at his weary feet
By his well worn boots that match his face
Leathery lines
Deep crevasses carved by time

No amount of Botox
Were he so inclined, would mend and fill
The valleys of his face
Fitting
As they mirror this, his art
He carves
Dying
Art form
Knives and men
Paired on benches
Fade into the once was

What is it
About carving something from nothing
Must be close to godliness
Bringing form from void
Something from nothing
Bit by bit
Boney fingers
Sweeping along the piece of Hickory
Cryptic
Curling crooked
Like a school boy practicing his cursive

Bit by bit
He whittles away, aiming not for perfection
But simply to pass the time

His shavings blow like thistle seeds, released
By the currents, backdraft
Of the 5:04

He’ll return
Find his place tomorrow, smooth impression
Of his own backside
Made by years of sitting here

Tired of his retirement
Weary from too much rest
Rocking forth and back
To the sounds of

Metal scraping down the tracks
Carrying the 9 to 5’ers home

He and his Hickory
Left to sit, count the minutes
Count the days
Whittle away
What remains

Memories, bit by bit
Fade in messy piles by his weary feet
His Hickory chips

And the tail lights of the 5:04
Dim

He’ll form something from the void
Aiming not for perfection, but simply to pass the time
And pray to God
To grant him rest

(He is so tired, he is so very tired)
Of whittling his life
Away

How To Say Goodbye – Don’t

This is Day 31

Thank you for joining me during the month of October for #write31days. Now that we are ending the series, I am just getting started with this rodeo. Was this a practice drill? Is tomorrow really November 1? More about that later.

To read the series in its entirety, click the page tab at the top of the home page. Spoiler alert, there are not 31 posts. Right, I know, I fell short of the goal. But I don’t really see it that way. More about that later.

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I do not like goodbye’s. Unless I am leaving the DMV or the dentist. But even then I have usually tried to connect with someone in the place and have done some sort of bonding, making it difficult to leave. So goodbye’s, I am not a fan. When I say bonding, I mean I hope I have gotten past how are you’s and how is the weather’s. I am a digger. Though I try to be gentle. If we were having coffee I would be gently going deeper in conversation rather than keeping it superficial.

If you are a regular reader here, it is rare to hear me speak. Usually its a lot of poetry. And I like it that way, but today is a horse of a different color and I am feeling a bit chatty, sentimental and having a difficult time saying goodbye to this series.

Perhaps it is because I am struggling to say goodbye to my beloved old English Lab who is hanging around this thin veil of living and leaving. It is painful and yet there are moments laced with such tender beauty. I am clinging to the moments and praying for a miracle. I am seeing signs of love and life and glory tinged on the edges of her illness. The tail wags, a barometer of life. She rolls on her back and lets me rub her sweet spot, an indicator of emotion. And the food? If she can still eat her beloved peanut butter treats, she’s not going anywhere anytime soon (she says hopefully and expectantly).

So perhaps saying goodbye is best when we focus on the hellos, the gratitude, the blessings of the life and life experiences rather than the void. I do not know how to say goodbye’s well. So do not listen to me. But as I map out the end of this series I want to focus on gratitude.

My best goodbye is a big hello, thank you, blessings on your head.

If you have read here for a season, you have come across my words on aging and dementia. This is a theme of sorts  in my life as I walk through this confusing disease with my mother. It is a journey of discovery. Of pain and joy. Of surprise and disappointment. I do not want to say goodbye to who she was before dementia, I choose to say hello to who she is becoming every day within the new paradigm of her life, aging with dementia. Hello, thank you, blessings.

I want to choose to embrace the moment, savor the moment and declare the gratitude in the moment.

I guess the best goodbye is a hello till later.

Maybe that’s the best I can do on this Day 31. I hope this is hello. I hope this is see you in November. And I hope you will be around for the book. Because the book is coming, I  trust the timing. And no, I do not know the details, I just know my heart’s desire on the matter. And I hope you will help me explore the newsletter and join me if it is birthed and takes off.

So this is my postcard from me for today. Hello, thank you, bless you, warmly, e.

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If I have met you through this series, thank you. If you have subscribed to the blog to follow my writing during October, thank you.

I hope to see you in November and all the months ahead.

I am dreaming of a weekly newsletter which contains writing that would not be found on my blog. If you think this sounds interesting, intriguing or has any merit at all, drop a comment in the comment box and say, “I MIGHT be interested in that”. And if you are subscribing, you will hear me announce here a place to sign up if I go forward with it. I think a newsletter may be fun for all of us. (Rather than a second blog.) Yes, I did mention that as an option earlier this week.

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