Breathe

Where is my white lace?
I am Aliza

My breath is your breath
My consumptive lungs—your lungs
My broken heart—your heart

My son is dying slowly
One brain cell at a time

You may think him your father
I know him to be your child
I had to leave him alone so long ago
My baby boy of five

Take care of him
My son, your father

~~~

Indeed where is your white lace, Aliza?
Never met grandmother of mine.

Breath of my breath
Your lungs—now my lungs, free and clear
My beating heart—your heart

My father is dying slowly
One brain cell at a time

You may think him my child
I know him to be my father
We will not leave him alone this time
Your baby boy, now 85

I—you—we will care for him together as one
My father, your son.

© Jane Ellen Holliday Wilson
March 2016

This entry was posted in Alzheimer's, Dementia, Poetry, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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