The Mess

There is a scene in “D-Day” where one person knifes another;
He says to ‘shush’, and sticks it in, thus brother killed a brother;
I do not know why this comes back so vividly to bother,
Except that Mum is slipping fast – so vulnerable to other.

I noticed it some days ago when mental thought got scrambled;
Quite suddenly it fell apart, then on and on she rambled;
It's been like that some other times especially when tired,
Then forward movement of her brain is like a wagon mired.

It is exactly what she said she did not want to happen –
That she'd outlive her brain someday with all her being sapping;
Her intellect was such a major part of all her living,
And from that fount she made life work, and drew her gift for giving.

She hated pain in others’ lives – removed it giving tools
To others: gifts of lit’racy, her language viewed as jewels;
Through books, and thoughts, and words, and jokes, she poured in life of others;
And where she could, help them to speak and read – those were her druthers.

She viewed the trapped as challenges, and freed to life around them,
Then wished them well as they moved on each to their own surrounding;
At which point she'd go back and take another to their freedom,
Like underground that scurried blacks from slavery redeeming.

Now she's the trapped within the shell of her collapsing body;
Surrounded by some folks she knows like her, are viewed as oddies.
“Is this of life all that remains – to trickle out like water?
There surely must be more than this – at least I think there otter.

But she has had two dozen years since dad passed on to heaven,
In that she made her way quite well – and each our lives she leavened .
It was not perfect, but she said,  “Old age is not for sissies”
Then strode into the storm outside, her husband though she misses.

“The clock seems strange, it backward flows,”, said she with some confusion,
Her memories, first decade here, okay, but others losing.
“My husband's name was Ian, right? He died, long time since passing?”
Yet she my jokes still comprehends, this woman of compassion.

So here she is like soldier strong in film we watched of D-Day –
Pinned 'neath the load she can't remove that takes her life away
Nor can we help – like audience who can't affect the outcome
But trapped we are, here in our seats, as final laps are now run.

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