THE LOTUS EATERS: A SHORT DEDICATION

"I enjoyed the write" was what I wanted to write here, but then I read your last few words...My father has been having troubles with his short term memory for some time now...Not an enjoyable subject, but still: A great write. Yours, ~Nina

it isn't too raw to speak. I share with you my dementia poem. Maybe you will recognize something in it. --------------------------------------------------------- My father got older. He didn’t age like a fine wine. Cancer robbed his face; first the ear, then the tongue, then the eyelids. He sat in the dark, talking quietly. “I lost my faith and I’m scared.” “Dad-“ “No-I only wanted to give you faith. I’m sorry.” The guilty night stayed silent. Wry humor turned to hostile accusations. Nights turned delirious, combative. Alone, I hear the voice of my mother’s steel mercy. “Never avert your eyes. Never deny the truth.” And, unspoken “Never cry.” She’s already gone. My house is different now; alarms on the doors, kitchen knives locked away, the half-stranger who stings me with fear and hate. Sighted, I wait for quiet confusion, the chance to kiss the cheek of my father’s unknowable truth. Bending, a murmur, “I love-” who? I love. That’s all. And cry.