THE COUNTY HOME OF GRACEDALE

Eventually, my mother will die
like most old people:
from humiliation, incontinence,
boredom, and neglect.
The nurse says her mind now wanders quite a bit.
Synapses in her brain are drying up slowly.
Only rare moments of perfect clarity
show an luminous personality
veiled by advancing age.
She sometimes mistakes me for her
husband, best friend, or childhood lover.
I try to make visits as often as I can,
but time no longer means the same thing
to her as it does to me.
Head against my chest weeping
for hours like a three-year old,
she asks why grandchildren never come to visit.
I feel only her loneliness and exile;
isolated against her will and abandoned by the family.
Dark eyes express fear and betrayal Whenever I rise to leave.
Feeling the fragility of her bones, she clutches my hand
in a hard, blue veined grip.
Gasping for reason, she begs
"take me home with you, refuse to die among strangers!"
I love her as much as I love anyone in the world,
yet I don't allow her to live with me.
Whenever I kiss her good-bye, I am marked betrayer.
As the master of my mother's final days on earth,
I leave her in this hellhole to rot away.

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Last updated on 02/02/2011 10:22PM (EST)
[ Star Date: 2-655321.8 ]

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