The Devil is Dementia*

When someone you love
Is robbed of their present,
Believe me –
There’s so much to resent:
To witness a person slowly eroded,
Their love of life relentlessly corroded,
Diminished to functionality,
A despairingly minimal reality
Eroding even dignity,
So far from whom they used to be.
Furrows deepening on a brow
Struggling to compute what’s happening now,
Sure information had come their way
But just as quickly, slipped away.
Rendered to childlike disposition
That, no matter how hard they listen,
Information simply disperses
Resulting in assorted curses
Made by those who just won’t grasp
That even the simplest of daily tasks
Has no proper place to rest-
This the essence of the test;
A bitter sense of emptiness
Silently borne in bleak awareness.
I struggle to find a reasoned defence
For a sense of impairment so immense,
A dehumanising and regressive state-
What kind of God would ascribe such a fate
To someone who’s walked their life His way
To find in their twilight such disarray?
Chaos the ever-growing spectre
With no-one a capable protector,
None of us equal to the tasks
She undertook without being asked-
To have, to hold, to cherish, to care;
Her life’s endeavour embedded there
In the lives of those she loved and protected,
Struggling now,
Beyond indebted.

 

 

*Christmas does strange things. The sadness, anger, regret and loss of hope I feel for my mum’s deteriorating state of mental and emotional health has nowhere to go. Whatever did she do to deserve this?

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