the fiction of being

the fiction of being

snow tires

tread across the grey matter

of my brain with chains

for best traction,

while my thoughts slip away each day

farther down that road of memory

sliding across icy patches of cognizance

once in a moment skidding into an idea

i used to poetry

till they moved me into the home

where we all just sit and stare 

not much tapping going on there

computers sit in vacant lots

writing hiding under blankets

from confusing snowflakes

we are all happy flakes

in our tolerance

of ignorance

and when the drifts fly into our eyes

seconds of traction

move our wheels in the right direction

and we see clearly letters forming

before the highway's become

an impassable fatigue

and we're no longer allowed to drive

with our minds,

keys confiscated for safety.

erin-cilberto

7/3/19

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

My heart dropped as I read these lines Jacob. Your third stanza hit home hard. I think we all have a fear of ending up like that. I just hope if that ever happens to me I don't suffer the frustration that some older people do. I'd rather be in happy land altogether than in a half way house. Strong piece, gut wrenching. Can't imagine not being able to write.

Chris

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i agree, Chris...when i get there...i don't want to be here...
thanks for the visit...
j.

[Dr. YumnaKay]

Awful to think that life turns this way, and that it still does for people all around. No longer being able to do what one wants and dependent on another... vivid imagery, Jacob.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Yumna,
j.

[TerryDarcy-Ryan akaSh..]

I love the images I got on the first part of this very nice and the rest well growing old is not for sissy's. Great poem

Sheer Terror

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your read and comment, Terry...appreciate your visit.
j.

[MomzillaNC]

A very moving write. You really touched a nerve and pulled at my memory.

I watched my Gran fade away in a home. She was the matriarch of our family… the rock that centered everyone. She was a woman who was in control and never matched. To see her fade away like that… Well, I think we all fear that. But, it is a horror to watch. It's especially fearsome for people like us whose minds… whose wordcraft is so much of who we are; perhaps our greatest fear is losing that.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, a great fear...thank you so much for understanding, MomZ...
j.

[Rana]

i think specially more a horror to watch for we can do nothing about it, but not as much when we go through it ourselves near the end of our being, for we are doing something about it, we are in more control at least than the ones that watch us fade. We'll be fine, we'll have served to our heart's full :) xoxoxo

[MomzillaNC]

I know your words are meant to be some kind of comfort to me -- and for yourself. I understand that we humans need to tell ourselves comfortable little fictions sometimes. However…

I know Gran would NOT agree. I watched how tormented she was by the pieces of herself being lost. I watched strength, determination, and iron-will be replaced by confusion, fear, and ever more control slipping daily away from her in snatches of loss of self. She talked about it too, before she lost even that lucidity -- she was in a living nightmare.

[Rana]

I've seen the same happen to my grandpa so i relate with what you're saying. They try not to let it show but it gets beyond their control when they just begin to need someone to rely on for the simplest things. Moreover it only gets worse. There are pangs of panic, then you adapt and the fear passes only for the next to follow. But i also saw peace always followed that silent suffering- perhaps some insight, some wisdom is revealed. It may have been a nightmare but one that can't yet take away the beauty there is all around, the love and presence of loved ones, the support and care, it is in those moments they get to see how truly truly valued, precious and loved they are.

[Rana]

The descent of amnesia, we are forgotten, we begin to become forgetful of things. Hence the fiction of being, what is being- anyway. Temporary and slowly fading away as if it never were, as if fictitious. But only because it is no more doesn't mean it never was, i mean, truths change. Maybe that is fiction- a truth truly temporary because it exists only in the mind that is ever-changing itself. I remarked the poem was beautiful in many many places. These lines,
"we are all happy flakes
in our tolerance
of ignorance
and when the drifts fly into our eyes" - here seems to be the truth of happiness, the wisdom there is in the patient bearing of ignorance so we don't let it become suffering and well, in time all ignorance gives way to knowledge. The words that made me stop in silence and awe for a moment were the last lines, "keys confiscated for safety"- so powerful, so beautiful. For so many reasons, the clarity of your writing, the precision of your words, the meaning in your message. Much wisdom in these lines.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind and insightful review, Rana,
j.

[Lydia Shutter]

Such a sad scenario you have painted here, Jacob. How tragic when one walks through the halls of a nursing home only to see medicated people in wheelchairs staring into space....people who used to be vibrant and active. As we get older, we all wonder if this will be us some day. Hopefully not. The metaphor is great....the concept terrifying. Lydi**

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your kind words, Lydi..
j.

[Chris]

Feeling yourself 'going' - day-by-day ...true terror.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, Chris...i always appreciate it so much when you stop by...

[andrew mitchell]

What fates awaits us? the quick exit? Or the slow exit? Or the exit we don't have any comprehension about?
Or the exit decided by another country called war! A chilling write for the aged!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your words, andrew,
j.

[adichie]

Oh, this one plays with stillness and movement in a way that makes your teeth clack. Movement that becomes futile. Stagnation paired with subjugation and a little obligation and alienation thrown in for good measure.

Bone-chillingly good, Jacob!!! :):)

Btw, I may be leaving soon. I’m plagued with a narcissistic catfishing stalker, who somehow has found me on this site. Blocking and reporting don’t seem to do much, so I may have to limit my audience to poetry-loving friends and loved ones offline.

His name is Fawn from CT, and he pretends to be a woman to get women to latch on. He sees me as raw material, my poems, my comments, my way of being.

You’re a gifted writer, and I would have liked to stay. I’m really just newly back myself, I realize.

Deb :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

going to miss you Deb...I was so enjoying your poetry...and this stalker crap...it has got to stop...we need some effort by the monitors of this site to crack down on it...Be safe and well and hope you will be back when you can.

j.

[John the Baptist]

This one took me back to the days when I was a social worker in a chronic disease hospital. Many of the patients were elderly (Which is to say, my age now.) people with some form of dementia. It was indeed a place where "we all just sit and stare." They did have "seconds of traction," but inevitably would drift back into the distant past and stay there until the next brief visit to the present. The snow imagery was very good in capturing their levels of consciousness. I really do not want to end up like that.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

me either...i want to be gone before that happens..thank you for your kind words of understanding...
j.

[Kelly Scheppers]

Your title gave this a pulse for me. Evocative and thought provoking all in one. I often think about what will happen to all my poetry after I'm gone. I guess there's no time like the present to prepare. Time is ever fleeting - every day.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you, my friend.
j.