Old Age
“I’m waiting to die” she said
“Suic…” my dad had said 2 years earlier
He barely verbal
Both Dementia
Same day, same room, no visitors
“Have you seen her?”
“No”
“Has she rejected you?”
“Yes”
One gets visitors when one can PERFORM
And the visitor can avoid silences
But when one can’t perform
The visitors all vanish
(so much for loyalty or soul mates)
What are we so frightened of?
Unable to look dying in the face
We’re all going there
& when the visitors drop off
& there’s no life around
& you can’t get out & about
It’ll be
“Are you bored?”
“Yes”
Despair unto death
My dad a hunger strike
She’s stopped taking her pills
The carers get frustrated & there's showdowns
But sometimes dying is one's last hope.
"Why don't we go to the art gallery tomorrow?
Would you like that?"
"Yes"
Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2024.
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