D e m e n t i a

Chopped root, in the dark subsoil of the mind;
protected only by its own forgetfulness;
seeking occasionally, with weak desperation
for the light it once (perhaps?) remembers;

stabbing their own nearest, dearest kin
with the cold steel of unrecognition
as if of some betrayal: one day, a glance,
a careful question: ‘Are we… related? ’

And you – you have been singled out
for this unexplained great test
which gods within, without, us have devised:
call upon all you’ve ever learned, lived, won, been gifted:
love these beloved strangers
beyond all bonds, all bounds.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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