Lost and Found

My mother
is losing her mind

the keen and creative intelligence

the fluid conversationalist

the sly distractor

the determined actor

are becoming history

my history

For her

there is a new reality

the here and now

this present moment

Oh, Fate

you cruel robber

why steal such precious past?

Must so much yesteryear 

disappear
in the same fog

as hides what we talked about  

15 minutes ago?

And yet…and yet

after years of struggle

of running away

of holding one another

at arm’s length

mushrooms

are sprouting in the rain

beneath an ancient canopy

beyond words

a healing of the whole

What we both needed most

as children

we somehow
now have found

in each other’s arms 

unconditional love.

water

Mom brought me a glass of water

this morning

slow as a snail

sure as a swan

a remnant from the fabric

of her former self

the hostess…the mother

She asked

and I remembered

to say yes

to accept something

from her still strong hands

some small cup

of nourishment

and it tasted good.