196. Tipping Point

Tipping Point

In Maryland,

You live

Shrouded 

In history.

Lost

In translation;

Tradition 

And obligation.

Your self expression

Confined to the

Plates and silver

—The ephemera of status—

Passed 

Down

To you;

Through you. 

At the lake,

You leave

That other world

Behind.

You become

More natural;

Feel balanced

Naturally.

I place your

Water urn

On the dining table

Your husband made

In front of

The water urn

He painted

Exploding 

With flowers 

And the telltale 

Tail

Of a cat. 

Two water carriers—

Is it not

The Age

Of Aquarius?

Your urn;

I wonder at its

Provenance.

A word

You understand

But might not

Know,

And I wonder

Would you 

Resent me?

But water 

Washes

All our trespasses

Away,

And I imagine

Instead

A new day.

Same you;

Just a new

Way. 

The Poetry of Dementia is an ongoing project to share my family’s journey with my mother’s illness as a year of moments. We do not know whether my mother will live a full year—or perhaps she’ll live longer. Her dementia has been a bittersweet and beautiful journey that has already taken us places we never imagined. Loving and caring for her at home has fundamentally changed each of us, and daily reminds us to live in the present with love, trust and patience. Click here to read from the beginning.