POETRY ON MEDIUM

She Pleaded Don’t Make Me Go

A Difficult Decision …

she pleaded don’t make me go but her hands were already too frail and my mind as tough as it once was could not stand the sight of her degrading self it ruined me enough to tear words from my mouth like a river washing dirt from the bank misplaced and mistaken

even as the names of houses were more and more discussed she spoke very little of her mind when there was no need to voice it turning into the issue I have at hand the roofs are strong and the foundations safe which confuses me why the distrust as if I would send her some place absurd like a camp or a dungeon doomed to forever walk the stairwells — it is state-of-the-art as they say — with reclining beds and propped-up pillows food endlessly streaming from the kitchen she can cook her own food if she wishes there are voices in the rooms next door people walking by and by again people with names she can remember faces she can recognise

I am not the villain it is the fear that controls her the fear one day she will wake hands bound to the frame as if damned by God condemned to a life of unstable anguish ruling her mind like a demon with a whip it is nothing of the sort and I assured her as much so I am praying when she arrives tomorrow her words no longer blame me of stricture but call me over with motherly love knowing this was done with the purest of hearts and the hope for our longevity

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