Who Are You

An aging mind loses its memory, but the heart remembers

Jabbering incomprehensible

          Thoughts

Hoping the melodious ensemble

          Somehow

 Flows into yesterday's memory

           He waits.

  Traffic breathes slowly into the

            Night

  Methodically keeping pace into

            8 am deadlines

  While unheard mentions drip 

            Drip drop. 

  Scattered dreams lost among 

            Reality

  Gives pause to a lonely man's

            Soul. 

  He looks to the world with eyes

            Clouded

  Waiting to hear her voice sing

            A lullaby. 

 Hands worn and rough hold a

           Picture 

 Edges torn and color faded 

           To gray. 

 He doesn't know the face he

            Sees

  So he it draws it closer to feel 

            The love

  His soul will not forget. 

  

Reviews

[Ayesha Faiz]

This poem feels deeply sad and personal.
I can picture the man sitting alone, lost in his thoughts while the busy world moves on around him.
The part about holding the faded picture really hit me he may not remember the face clearly, but the love is still there.
It’s touching, and it makes me think about how some feelings never leave us, even when memories fade.
Your writings are hauntingly beautiful... that much I've figured.
Truly loved it. Thanks for the wonderful write.

[LynGeist]

Hi Ayesha, and thank you for such sincere comments. This is a story about a man with Alzheimer's. He can no longer remember his family who visit him faithfully.. On the days he is alone without visitors, he holds the photo of his wife who visits weekly. He doesn't remember the face in the photo, but his heart knows she is special and his soul knows he loves her.

[Ayesha Faiz]

Ah, the urge...
oh, what an urge indeed--
to be loved so deeply, so unconditionally,read moreAh, the urge...
oh, what an urge indeed--
to be loved so deeply, so unconditionally,
that the heart knows what the eyes cannot see. Just lovely.

[Laz K.]

second childishness...it can seem cruel...but one wants to believe that not everything is lost, and that "the soul will not forget."

[LynGeist]

Hi Laz, I'm not sure what you are referring to when you say "second childishness"

You are right on when you say we want to believe not everything is lost, not the lost themselves nor the ones who loves them.

[Laz K.]

The phrase comes from here (last but one line):

‘All the World’s a Stage’ Monologue, Spoken by Jaques, Act 2 Scene 7
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

[LynGeist]

Ahhh I understand and am fascinated. Thank you for the clarification Laz