In the Dementia Unit
My mother crosses her arms
to block my hug, and turns her face
from my kiss. I have waited,
she tells me, but you never write.
Not even a postcard.
You never remember me.
Never mind yesterday’s visit,
or even today’s.
I am sorry, I say.
And I am,
for everything
but that.
9 thoughts on "In the Dementia Unit"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Hearbreaking and very well-written.
So good to read your work again, this piece really packed a strong punch
This hits close to home. Powerful.
A few words say so very much in this poem.
What everyone else said! This hits hard.
Tender and very relatable
My mother is convinced no one calls or visits her, even though she gets both of these things every day. It seems impossible to fill the void of those empty hours.
It is so hard to lose someone while they are still here. This poem is beautiful and poignantly recognizes the pain that love costs.
Heartbreaking and powerful. So much in so few words.