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Senescence

Submitted by Gracy on Wed, 2020-04-08 12:43

Senescence

Time stood still in your gaze:
you survive in a descending spiral,
searching for preterite instants
in mnemonic pathways.
Your eyes see shadows.
Your mind transmuted love in phantoms
without farewells.

Dementia, like the blind worm,
slides through tunnels in live matter.
Is your yoke easy? your burden, light?
You don’t answer.
Destiny summons with masks of a woman.
Seeking an outlet to seas,
you carry a child’s rucksack on an old man’s loins,
packed with unfathomable images of your yesterdays.

Your destiny is Amphitrite with a child in her arms.
Goddess of the Ocean,
she breastfeeds aquatic creatures
adrift in embryonic waters.
Return to the cool green depths.
You will have peace.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I appreciate moderate constructive criticism
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Last few words: 
I wrote this poem to my late husband, who had dementia for 15 years, during his senior time and senescence.
Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

Gracy

Thu, 2020-04-09 17:42

Gracy's picture
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Hi Jerry, yes, it's a question of keeping one's mind active. I find a few games to download, but I soon tire of them. I realize after a short time that they're all repetitive and one can do them by heart. Do you know of any good games?
Thanks for reading and commenting. It was very sad caring for Carlos for so many years. I have to confess that he deteriorated so much, just skin and bones, that only my daughter would visit him. His own daughter lives in W.A., Spokane. She never flew over to see him during the whole 15 years.
Tx and take care.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment

Gracy

Sat, 2020-04-11 11:37

Gracy's picture
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Thanks, Mark. Yes, terribly sad, coming right after my son's ALS, of which he died aged 29 years. Long story.
I'm glad you like my "worm" simile. I'll try to come Saturday night, not always possible, but a fun challenge.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

author comment
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