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My Grandmother
My grandmother is dying,
I can see it in her eyes.
Or, rather, her one eye;
The cancer took the other one
And it is now red and puffy
Like some kind of Atacama on her face.
And she is dying, as life thrives
Within her, in cancer cells that
Enjoy a life eternal,
Purely in the theoretical,
And multiply
Like there ain’t no tomorrow.
And so they host a party in her bones,
And make them crack and swell.
She loses her memory
And asks me if I’ve ever read
Baudelaire. I say no,
I’ve only studied Maupassant.
And asks me if I’ve ever read
Baudelaire. I say no,
I’ve only studied Maupassant.
I feel irritation at her,
And just how wrong is that?
I wonder if she feels
She’s made an impact in her life,
And whether it was all worthwhile,
And if she can bite off the universe
In a smile
And not feel inadequate.
And asks me if I’ve ever read
Baudelaire. I say no,
I’ve only studied Maupassant.
And no,
I just don’t know,
I just don’t know what to say.
This is probably
The last time I’ll ever see her.
And asks me if I’ve ever read
Baudelaire. I say no,
I’ve only studied Maupassant.
And all she can engage with is
Meaningless chat.
The state of the Seychelles,
Or what she did so long ago.
She doesn’t like Ramkalawan,
Apparently,
Nor Michel nor Mancham nor any
Of these banana politicians.
And asks me if I’ve ever read
Baudelaire. I say no,
I’ve only studied Maupassant.
And do I care?
And would I want to put
A bullet through my brain
Before it came to this?
And I just don’t know what to say.
I just do not know what to say.
I'm sorry to hear ..
My Grandmother had Alzheimer's disease.
So this kinda hit home to me.
The way you portrayed your Grandmother's sickness reminded me so much of mine.
I'm sorry to hear about your Grandmother,
and I do hope things work out for the best.
I want you to know that this piece bewitched my vascular organ,
and made me reminisce about a woman I never really knew.
Beautifully written.
"We are, Each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." -Luciano De Crescenzo
With mine, it's cancer. I saw
With mine, it's cancer.
I saw her, probably for the last time, last year (she lives in the Seychelles).
It was depressing - Hence this piece. And her mind is pretty much gone now because of the effect of the cancer.
Things working out for the best? Thank you for the sentiment; I just wish it was possible to know if after one's undignified, screaming exit from life there is something better.
I'm really glad it did that. You have a very interesting way of putting it... "bewitched my vascular organ" - where did you raw that from? I like it.
Thank you so much.
"Satellite's gone
up to the skies.
Thing like that drive me
out of my mind.
I watched it for a little while:
I love to watch things on TV." - Lou Reed
So bewitched I was ...
I wrote a piece inspired by you.
The Woman I Never Knew.
You sparked the hidden trigger within my mind that resurrected the feelings I had locked away.
The fondness, love, appreciation, affection, adoration, and wonder are only just a few that I can share with you on how I feel of this matter.
Thank-you.
"We are, Each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." -Luciano De Crescenzo
That's kind of why I write.
That's kind of why I write. For reactions like yours. I still can't quite believe the words from my hand can cause that reaction in your mind. It's a sacred thing for me.
Not at all, a pleasure :).
"Satellite's gone
up to the skies.
Thing like that drive me
out of my mind.
I watched it for a little while:
I love to watch things on TV." - Lou Reed