the twisted tree is hit by the storm
grandma forgets me
but remembers the young sapling
right outside her home
she checks on it hourly
but walks carelessly to her bed
getting scrapes
she asks me questions
gives me names that she likes
the twisted tree survives the storm
she lavishes love and affection on the survivor
my grandma still does not remember me
the storm in our house rages on
This encapsulates so well what it is like to love and live with someone with dementia. The imagery you use invokes such a clear scenery, and you make your point beautifully. It’s amazing how you managed to replicate such complex feelings in me using only a few lines. Love this!
and I wish you strength for the rest of your way forward with your grandma. You have a lot of love, and it must be difficult on the days it is not recognized. In another life, you are the sapling, I’m sure.
Thanks a lot, I really appreciate the feedback and the warm wishes. Much love and strength to you !
I love this poem and agree with what Koso said. What a great use of metaphor and this line really resonated with me: ‘gives me names that she likes’
Thanks, feels great to be encouraged and read. All the best to you.