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Conversations With Myself

09.06.19 Posted in today's words by

Sandy Patton’s most recent poem to appear here was “Her Mermaid” (March 2019).

Conversations With Myself
(An Alzheimer’s Patient’s Plea)
By Sandy Patton

I am here, not for long, I know.
Soon I will fade away, and there
will be no coming back, but, for now,

I’m here, and sometimes, I’m still me.
My lucid moments are hazy, fleeting.
I lose pieces of time and grow more
confused, struggling hard to remember
even the most ordinary of things.

I watch you, watching me. I see shades
of shame and regret in your eyes, and
there’s so much I long to say, but my
words stay trapped inside, lost forever.

Don’t be angry when I shout or cry out;
my tiny world frustrates and terrifies me.
It’s no one’s fault; and while it’s not the
death I’d choose, that choice is not mine.

The bleakness of my plight is not
lost on me. I hear the whispered
exchanges of those who speak
as if I’m already gone. It hurts.

I beg you, be mindful with insensitive
words tossed about; they devastate and
crush me. How is it you don’t see my
eyes well up, hear my heart shatter?

I am not deaf, nor dead, yet. Though I
no longer can communicate with words,
I hear you, as I sit quietly, so near.
Look closely, deep inside, I’m still here.

Please try hard to remember me as I was,
my strong spirit, my laughter, my loyalty,
and always, my enduring love for you,
I pray you will never forget,

even when I no longer remember.

3 Responses to “Conversations With Myself”

  1. Sharon Poch says:

    Sandy, these lines ache with the pain of suffering and loss. A loving insight into the mind that is leaving, but needs to be cherished and given dignity. Thank you.

  2. bobbietroy says:

    Wow, wow, and wow.

  3. Poignant. Sandy, this is spot on. It’s such a horrible disease for the patient and their loved ones.

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