Dedicated to anyone who is dealing with dementia.
Nether-land
photo credit: Greg Balzer via photopin cc
Where do you go, o’ mother?
Where does your mind rest?
When your words in this world,
unfurled, are not from your breath.
Where do you go, o’ mother?
What do your aged eyes see?
When your thoughts seem to wander,
to a place yonder, and so far from me.
Where do you go, o’ mother?
When is that time of which you speak?
When your voice drops low, and you
whisper so, to the phantoms you beseech.
Where do you go, o’ mother?
To whom do you cry?
When fear takes hold, when you
bear silent load, to burdens of your mind.
Do you go to the nether-land, o’ mother?
A place of which I know not?
When you dial a phone,
to someone unknown, no one to pickup.
What’s it like there, o’ mother?
Is it scary in that nether space?
When you seem to be nowhere,
yet somewhere, some faraway place.
Where do you go, o’ mother?
Where do you go, o’ mother?
Where I cannot reach,
past all earthly speech, alone in nether-land.
– Eric Winger
Today’s sad gift of time … Talked with my mother who suffers from Parkinson’s and dementia. It was a difficult conversation.
