Today we come to the 21st letter of the alphabet. Our prompt is “under.” Still feeling the loss of my mother three years ago, I thought I was writing my poem for her. Instead, it appears I was writing it for me, a way to deal with the weight of the years her mind was held captive by this horrible disease. For all of you dealing with a loved one suffering in the same way, I pray you find the strength to get through it. And for my mother: Happy Birthday! You are missed and I love you!
UNDER BLACK, VELVET SKIES
For Martha Schoeffield 8/26/1920–9/3/2007
Dementia grabbed hold of her memory.
A blank, vacant stare gripped her eyes.
Recognition of loved ones around her
was lost under black, velvet skies.
Prayers for release went unanswered.
No hope for a speedy demise.
She lingered in chains from her bondage
in that prison of black, velvet skies.
When death finally graced her with freedom
from all that dementia implies,
relief mixed with unaltered sadness
for years lost to black, velvet skies.