TURMOIL 😔
She used to be a library of memories,
Telling us where she was during the solar eclipse
Not a tailor yet she stitched conversations so well
That would make you wonder if she was a toastmaster
She used to be an ocean of happiness,
Drowning many in her laughter and jokes
Truthfully speaking, her stories was a spaceship –
Taking us trips to a different planet
Wasn't she a galaxy for little stars like us?
Vast – that we couldn't contain her past
Wasn't she a mountain with peaks in the tropics?
Climaxing us with accurate historical topics
Today, the woman who birthed me,
Has no knowledge of my birthday
Occasionally, she mistakes me for others
And it surprises me if she's really being honest
Most often, we'd jump into assumptions –
Thinking it might be menopause
But the bitter truth of her health is a consumption
That's she suffering from a huge memory loss
I have become the punchbag to this shocking news
Sometimes, I wear my smiles for her despite the bruise
C'est la vie – my words, my assurance
Dance to life's music though I'm not endurance
I have turned the neighbours into watch dogs
Watching out for her safety
Yet, she usually gets lost
Within familiar spaces
I have fears that she'd oneday,
Mistake the dressing iron for her smartphone
Fears that she'd pour salt into my cup of tea
Since her memories flicker like a candle in the wind
Her mind wanders to places she hasn't requested for
Faces that seem to make her eyes sore
I'm closer to her as a heartbeat
But for her, it often feels as if I'm from a faraway land
Months after the diagnosis,
The Grim Reaper snatched her right under our noses
Everyone knows this —
Was bound to happen — but we had wanted a final notice.
.
.
JANUARY 11, 2025
BeYunus 🐳
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