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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