Momma

She is weary of life
at 95
my mother suffered
her first heart attack
entered the next phase of cognitive impairment
brought on by dementia
entered a new state of confusion
exited the lie of independence
the shadow land I kept for her
managing her finances
managing her medicines
managing her appointments
managing her groceries
managing her laundry
managing her life
managing her lie
the lie that somehow kept
the fraction of the person she’d become
from the person she once was
secret and unknown
to her
the lie
that she was still whole

Now
the secret is out
she left the hospital
discharged into Assisted Living
she left her life behind
and the lie
and now in her new state
of utter confusion
she rattles around that new life
a random wheel
lost in aimless revolutions
hitting walls
spiraling until
landing
in the middle
of nowhere

She is weary of life
at 95
“I’ve lived too long
I want to die in my sleep”
she tells anyone who’ll listen
she is weary of life
unafraid of death
but petrified of dying
I can no longer keep her
secret from herself
the lie is now revealed
she knows she is falling
into the abyss of dementia
into the rabbit hole of mortality
so deep so dark to her
because it is a place she must go alone
because she has lost track of the hand that holds hers
because she has forgotten the Light
of her Creative Intelligence
the Light
of her Higher Consciousness
the Light of her God
I am the writer
I have only words
that jumble in her mind
she is the painter
she is the artist
the only one who can create
a different visual
but she has forgotten
what brushes and canvas and colors can do
my words cannot catch her
or paint a different path
all I can do is watch her fall

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