"Mom is Dying"

The call came late last night,

"Mom's not gonna make it,

We don't know if she'll last the night."

The anger, the pain welled up, "Wait ! What do you mean"?

"What are you gonna do "? I can't get their in time! I need to get a flight!"

"We can only keep her comfortable".

The shock is like a fiery bullet straight down through my brain,

lodging in my gut, twisting and melting.

On it's way down tearing out cinematic memories from throughout my life for me 

to see dancing around in technicolor.

I always knew that someday this would come, but you never get prepared.

Not fully. Th anger and the sadness wash over me like a tsunami of fire, I cry till I no longer can.

They can figure out how to put a man on the moon, transplant a heart,

bioengineer plants so they are hybrid species, but they couldn't figure out how to keep the woman that gave me a home when I had none, loved me, taught me values and raised me, they couldn't keep my Mother from turning into a vegetable. F*****g Alzheimers .......

© 2013 Mark Stitz

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

as a person ages, as I age, as the people I love age, i realize that nothing is curable.
poetry has no logical proposition. it is the doctrine of the living. so fantastic,
so illusory yet lacking in reality. not subliterature but helpless in the land of
make believe. Birds speak to us. the trees bow down to our chastise. rivers know
our names. the moon is bigger than everything. yet in the end, in this fantasy
land, there is no power over flesh. NONE. flesh just happens, then it stops
happening.

Poetry is just the forensics, the argumentative discorse of poor physical
evidence. we prove this fact each day with our sadness.I felt what you feel
Mark, sat where you sit. i'm trying to find the poetry, lying within the
range for which forecasts are possible, of the malady that forsakes
my forgiveness.

Thank you for sharing this with us.
dana

[Mark]

I understand what you say, however my poetry, unlike flesh, I can leave behind, much like a legacy,as words do not decay. Thank you for taking the time to read.

[Writer #00]

You really managed to connect your emotions with mine... I'm still stopping in between typing thee words to wipe tears from my eyes. No piece of art in any medium has ever had such an emotional effect on me before.

I don't know the specifics of the situation that may have inspired this poem, but I can relate to an extent seeing as there are people close to me who are slowly deteriorating due to Alzheimers. I don't know if this will be of any use to you, but I wrote a story once (though a work of complete fantasy) about a boy caring for his immobile father (who was essentially a vegetable). Something he held on to was that, even if his father hadn't even any consciousness, there was still a soul somewhere in his body. The soul is something nothing can defeat. I hope this was of use to you, don't despair.

cannot be codified into numbers/100

[Mark]

Thank you, your words are kind and much appreciated.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i am so sorry, Mark.

i am glad you could write this...it was needed.

[Mark]

Thank you Jacob, I appreciate that more than you know.