Aching Body

Children, more like toddlers run down the hall underneath large blue streamers hosting silhouettes of sea turtles and whale sharks. Chasing after them, my body rebels. At 49, every part of my body moves in protest. Worse yet, there's no comfort in rest. My legs want to swim while me head desires a pillow. Those eight hours of sleep do not exist in my world. When I wake, my back cries out. Guess this old age. My new job is to embrace it.

Dementia

To my window she comes

There's not much time

Tell me your secrets and and I'll carry them with me

Sprinkle them.on the wooden path, on top of your footprints

On good days, I sit at my window.

Open my broken mind, fish out my memories

And speak

Two by two in song, they drink my words and sing

I'm dying, but my body will go on functioning in this world

In the midnight hours, I busy myself

Boxing up memories, bitter and sweet

Rereading books and poems that contain words for stirring emotion

Saying prayers with the hopes of finally getting the meditation right

Once done, I close the box on my life and bury it

Underneath the bottle tree my husband made from the wine we drank

Before the last pile of dirt was out back in place

I beg and pray that I remember one Word, just one