Tuesday, January 11, 2011

No Argument

I must not argue with her,
I tell myself.
Just listen,
Be present,
Tell the truth.

She is losing so much:
Not just the car
And the independence it represents,
But the ability to read,
To connect,
To recognize.

The gaps of memory,
Fill in with stories
And fears
Leading to "spells"
Of paranoia.

Impossible things
Seem possible to her,
Or at least seem preferred alternatives
To the missing

I do not argue with her,
Evidence being too fluid
When experience cannot be shared.
She forgets reasons 
But not the slights
Nestled deep
In the family tree.
They are her only weapons
Fighting a family
Fulfilling her fears.

I want to tap that fire,
Turn it away from dread
and focus it on creation.
Lose inhibition, Ma,
Lose the internalized editor,
The constant critic,
The doubt and the depression.
Lose anxiety;
Let go of concern.
Lose the illusions of identity
and embrace the you that remains.

But she cannot choose
the gaps.
And I cannot fathom
her suffering
despite my listening and
commitment to empathy.
This is a truth
I cannot argue with her.

[This post is part of the @Platea "Treeblogging" event.  It draws on work found here and here.  It also connects with my life and the lives of those close to me.  Sometimes the tree is a family tree.]


  1. confronting the reality of a mind that is not one's own - you're fortunate that you're not closed to this, that the situation brings forth questions and acknowledgments in you - rather than a wall of denial or closed assumptions.... Negotiating such passages to the best of our ability - really, what more can we do?

  2. All I can say to this one is: Thank you. I needed to read that.


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