For deeply rooted personal reasons my mother and I moved house a few times. Each time taking "our home" with us... now it's a memory that she cannot recall. Sometimes I am thankful for that, sometimes I so hope she remembers.
The Heart is where the home once was...
I broke free of the domestic chains
Cutting the apron strings at last
Building a life I could call my own
Moving on from a troubled past?
My mum is still my mother though
The ties that bind are just as strong
But little glimpses into her mindset
Hints at something's begun to go wrong
She calls me by her fathers name
And talks of the things "we" did back then
When she was just a child herself
But for a moment she is "with me" again
They said it is "Onset Dementia"
Confused, she lives her days in the past
Short visits sometimes to the here and now
Before the shadows in her mind are cast
No matter our houses, we always had "home"
For a mother can only make that to be
Now trapped in her world that was so long ago
I'll be whom she thinks but I'll always be me
Poetry by Liam
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Written on 2019-12-22 at 20:56
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Lawrence Beck |
