April is National Poetry Month. This is the largest literary celebration in the world, with millions of people participating by reading, writing and sharing poetry.
All month long, several Bethany Village residents and staff worked on poems. The excellent works are available here for you to enjoy. In all, there are 7 poems available as a PDF. Here is but one of those poems, focusing on the difficulties of seeing someone you love suffer from dementia.
My Dementia My Life
Marva Hamilton, Bethany Village LPN
4/28/15
Mom ????
There’s goes that lady again, speaking to me as if she knows me.
Mom???
I guess I should respond. She seems pretty adamant.
Mom??
Who are you??
Mom??
She takes my hand and leads me to the car. She says the place we’re going is nice and not too far. She said the people will be truly kind. I look at these people, there no friend of mine.
They say I’m here to get extra help. I laugh out loud; I thought I was doing well by myself. I mean who cares if my house is not that clean. Let me close my eyes this must be dream.
Mom??
Ohhh there she goes again, leading me to a room that contains all my things. Introducing me to people that have on those outfits called scrubs. They seem pretty nice, but I want my families love.
I miss cooking in my kitchen. I can smell the sweet aroma of my famous peach pie.
I miss knowing the difference between day and night.
I miss washing my clothes, I miss washing myself.
I miss, I miss????
Mom, use your walker…
Mom they say you’re not eating…
Mom I love you…
Mom?????
Remember John Keating’s character from Dead Poets Society and his speech on the importance of poetry:
“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, ‘O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?’ Answer. That you are here – that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?”
