I went to see my mother last night
I went to see my mother last night.
She is ninety three years-old, that's right.
She is haunted by demons in her head
and can no longer get out of bed.
I will go and see her again today,
but I don't think the demons have gone away.
She is entering her final season,
in the process is losing her reason.
She was my first teacher,
but I can no longer reach her.
She has gone too far beyond, out there.
To a place to far away, to give her the care.
She's gone to a place too far away.
Soon it's God that she will meet,
Dear Lord please make her reception sweet
Now, this is not a good poem, so I am writing this as an outlet for my feelings. She constantly looks around her and pulls at her clothing and sheets looking for something she cannot find. When I ask her what she wants she looks at me with a puzzled look of desperation and mumbles something I cannot hear.
She tells me the nurses are conspiring against her. I ask her why. She tells me that during the night she got up out of bed and struck one of the nurses knocking the nurse down onto the floor. This is clearly impossible since she cannot stand. She whispers to me not to tell anyone, the nurses will find out and treat her badly. I pray God will take her home soon, her suffering is more than I can stand. The is the person who was my first friend, who taught me how to cross the street, and how to tie my shoe laces. And I can do nothing for her but to sit, listen, and be with her.