My Only Other Visitor

 

My Only Other Visitor

Savage, serene skin like a homogenized dream, and night’s darkness worn as a cloak, she speaks to wolves in their own language, and tracks the footprints of angels through the rain-washed earth. I scream her name from a foreign desert mind. She smiles at the gesture, but never answers. She enters and exits like a windblown ghost; like an inspired thought; like a momentary Jesus to get my Barabbas a*s sprung from another psychosocial crucifix. And, then, she is somewhat gone again; just a quiet star guardian watching over me from her midnight mountaintop. In these strange times, I melt into the static. I go back to recreating old mammoth hopes from ancient, dug up bones, and patch together lost love from coffee stained puzzle pieces. Even when hungry lions hang, furious, in the morning dew; even when Heaven is alive with multicolored flames, I do not fear. She always returns.  

Author's Note

From the eyes of an Alzhiemers patient whose lovely daughter visits him daily. For my friend and hero, Mr. John Lampton, and his sweet daughter, Tes.

Reviews

[SkinlessFrank]

This is a quiet piece, as it should be. The disease you speak of robs those we love of almost everything we once recognized in them. It is so difficult to imagine what it must be like to be inside their minds, and yet, they can be at piece at times, living in a world where they struggle to put together broken puzzles with most of pieces missing. My father died from early onset Alzheimers at the age of 55. There were these moments when, as in poem, he seemed to be both confused and content to live in a world gone wild and unpredictable, and yes, in some way he recognized the visits were from someone who he loved, but even love seemed like a concept beyond his fathoming.

[Jasmine]

I didn't read your Author's Note before I read the poem, so I must say the perspective of an Alzheimer's patient is not shown through the poem. However, I don't think that's bad - it leave the piece open to interpretation. Personally, on first read, I thought it seemed more from the perspective of Lovers.
I like your style, and the plentiful descriptions you use (except for the rather clichéd inclusion of angels and wolves...) I would be interested to know what the "midnight mountaintop" is in reference to.... and why you picked wolves.

[joshua deathdealer]

Wow...excellent piece for sure. My grandmother suffered from Alzheimer, horrible stuff. I admire your work.

[Plagued Monumentally]

This was stunning. I don't think I could bring myself to create a opinion that makes you, and other people, understand the true beauty of this poem. Admiration doesn't come easy from me, but this made me want to stalk your page everyday to see if you added a new poem. xD

Anyways, I thought this was stunning---like I said before. It's hard finding other descriptive words. Huuuurrrmmm..."Even when hungry lions hang, furious, in the morning dew; even when Heaven is alive with multicolored flames, I do not fear. She always returns. " that was a great way to finish the poem. True brilliance.

[Lily Mae]

This speaks so strongly to me about the children I work with ..your work always knocks me over with such raw and intense reality.. Your rare and I like you that way..xo

[Kenneth The Poet]

I love your work, R.G. This is a piece that speaks volumes, a lot of them I think.

[Moflo]

The writers note gave this piece a whole new dimension and, in my opinion, made it absolutely incredible. I love this piece, the way you described everything is great and its a very interesting concept that is executed nicely. Good work.

[Robin]

ah f**k ...

[WhiteWillow]

So sad, and so moving. Thank you.

[.]

Oh gosh..I had imagined guardian angels and dreams but not what you stated in the authors note..which I may add, on re reading just makes this all the more special to read...