a good place

 

 

 

i walk down the hall

to begin that journey 

of guilt

each step 

trying to find

comfort

in

the smell

not sickness

but 

of

 

a good place

 

wallpaper tunnel of 

endless

doorways

wonder  ing

how is she today

since

my heart tugs me 

to return

 

she blends 

more now 

than ever

greyed remnants of greatness

spoon fed

 

I gaze into her eyes

and watch

the

slow

process

of seeing 

through 

me

neuron struggling 

to grasp neuron

pick a memory 

any memory

find the one I’m in

 

I am patient 

though 

I 

want 

to

scream!

 

mom    my

is this the day I’m gone?

 

I stare at her hands

not bearing to see 

the confusion 

same hands

stroking my hair as I lay 

on her tummy

listening to the symphony

within

so

long 

ago

same hands

 

 

she smiles

she  sees now

sister, friend, mother, daughter, stranger

no matter

she does not know who I am

yet she knows who I am

the fragile cord that lives beyond

the grave

the brain

the time between

always there

like

the

smell

of

 

not sickness

but

 

her 

good place

Reviews

[G.f. Snell Iii]

Hi Kathleen:
This poem has potential -- but I didn't find the emotional courage here that I did with "I am a Writer." You give us detached observation rather than taking a leap into how you feel about your mother being sick and not recognizing you. "I am a Writer" took chances and I felt the anger battering its way through my computer screen. But here I can't feel the sadness or the anger, I'd expect in this type of piece.

You need to give us some details -- specifics to make it yours. Otherwise, it feels like your skating on the surface without exploring any new ground. Insert some of the energy and emotion from "I am a Writer" here and you'll get a more powerful piece.

[Doug Case]

Wow. I'm in shock. This is stunning, simply stunning. I think it's the (2nd?) best piece I've ever read on this site - and, believe me, that's quite an accomplishment.

You seperate stanzas in the perfect places - you choose the right, fragile wording - you convey emotion through your simple imagery - you let the reader choose the outcome, making the experience more personal - your use of repetition is amazing! I'm just...in...shock.

I can't believe you've only been writing for a month - you're much too good so soon!

I love:
"she smiles
she sees now
sister, friend, mother, daughter, stranger
no matter
she does not know who I am"
It's so simple, so direct...the reader doesn't even get to know who it is, but the beauty is that it doesn't matter!

And the "patient / scream" stanza is perfectly spaced, pulling the reader along and using an emotional pull toward anxiety that you must have felt at this moment.

Maybe I'm over-analyzing at this point, but I really do love this piece, and I'm going to put it in my library right away!

[Barry S. Maltese]

What an awesome piece. Visiting ones parents or grandparents can bring back memories and frustrations - memories to be found, frustrations from not being able to connect.
I remember visiting my mother. I seemed to be the only one she really remembered, many times we'd recall funny times of the past. Then I'd leave - feeling so very guilty!

You approached a very touch subject in a very nice manner. It brought back many memories.