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Here and Now

When I visited my mother in 2006, just after she’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, she was sufficiently aware to see the oncoming, narrowing corridors of consciousness. Here’s what I wrote as I sat and watched her doze:

Dying to be somewhere else
How can I separate
Holding fast to old, new love
Thank God it’s not too late

Your longing eyes are reaching out
Grasping at the rope
With certainties that haunt us all
Wrapped up in death’s warm hope

And I embrace your clarity
Your pain and your despair
I seek them in the wholeness
Of all the years you bear

So if the facts are muddied
And fear constricts your throat
It suggests to us all at last
To end this dance with hope

And therein lies my vanity
While knowing all’s in vain
I work deep in my even keel
And dream my dreams of fame

I shall invent your legacy
Frame emptiness with care
Go hang it on my newest wall
And hope to make it fair

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One response to “Here and Now”

  1. Cathy White

    That was beautiful and touching, Stephen. Thanks for sharing.

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