Days ahead, look bleak.
Screams, cries and fear.
A replay each day.
What do I do now?
Not yet at death’s door.
But, then again….
My urge to get away.
A resign sigh escapes.
I cannot run away.
That is wrong.
I’m trying to be strong.
To be strong for you.
Friends show concern.
They visit a few times.
Then, silence follows.
Only a handful continue.
There were two Priest.
And then two Pastors.
Also, the prayer group.
Where are they now?
They reassured her.
Of God’s love and mercy.
Calmness; but for a day.
Then a replay of each day.
Dementia never left.
The unseen is back.
Tormenting continues.
Fear is all you know.
It’s the witching hour.
Your screams are loud.
Tired and impatient, I am.
My voice… high pitched.
Dementia spiralling free.
Hallucination having fun.
Reality fragmented.
Your mind shutting down.
Alone in your reality.
Trapped! Locked inside.
Nothing can be done.
So, I pray. I try to comfort.
By C.E. Pereira
(15-6-2019)
