Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Memory Loss

It’s not like losing a wallet,
or even your best friend.

Losing your memory is
losing yourself.

Each sentence Grandma speaks
makes me think of crossing a river.

She steps from word to word
until suddenly

she stops in the middle, disoriented.
Should she go back or keep going?

Mom takes Grandma by the hand
and helps her to the other side.


from A Writing Kid of Day: Poems For Young Poets

3 comments:

  1. I've always loved this poem. Several years ago, when my mother was diagnosed with dementia, I read it to my sister. She was very touched by it, and said, "Yes, that is exactly what it is like." Thank you for putting this lovely, heartfelt poem.

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