Posted in Poems

In her eyes, I don’t see me


There is a caregiver.
To care for my Mom.
A constant companion.
To comfort, to care.

I lack in this area.
Even sitting at her bedside.
It is less than an hour.
Yet, I stress my Mom out.

I am no comfort to her.
When she talks to me,
I don’t understand.
I see her frustration.

Now, she stares at me.
Does she recognise me?
I ask her questions.
She doesn’t answer me.

She still hallucinates.
There is fear in her eyes.
I hold and stroke her hands.
“It’s ok Mom. I am here.”

I dread going into her room.
When I do, it’s to sing to her.
I don’t know what to talk to her.
I want to run out of the room.

Relieved, when I leave the room.
Yet, I spend so little time in there.
Don’t think me a bad daughter.
In her eyes, I don’t see me.

By C.E. Pereira



I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. In recent years, the younger generation have added on to include spouses from the Philippines, Nigeria and Russia. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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