A
Poem from the Night.
By
Brian McNaughton, New Zealand
My
experiences with dementia have given me a resilience
to hold tight to the love I can't feel until the cloying
mists clear for a period to see the faces of those that
love me.
Last
night I lay awake. The phrase "it's cruel to fool" kept
repeating in my mind. I followed the prompt, got my Palm
notebook and wrote my first poem.
(See
Brian's other pieces, The
Weather Forecast, Who
am I? and 'T'was
only the song of a bird.)
It
came upon a midnight clear
A
Poem from the Night.
It's
cruel to fool and pull the wool
Over eyes that cry and don't know why.
Yet this mind's gaze though fixed and kind
Is twined so lovingly round me and mine.
The
lips and arms that keep the harms
From crashing, bashing and back lashing
On those that hold and feel and fold again
To ease the fears and guilt and pain.
Yet
through the storms, the sun and rain
We see again the hope of She, this Girl and Me.
And know the joys of love. We're free
To love and hold eternally.
(written
between 2-3 a.m.)
© Brian
McNaughton 2003
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