The Beast

A poem about dementia

Who is the beast that now sits In grandma’s chair and hits the air Shouting with the loudest voice possible Crying for help when there’s no need

Its eyes are like glass beads It can’t walk or stand for long It always complains and judges you Perhaps it didn’t forget its habits after all

What a pity, this beast was human once Now its caretakers are tired and refuse to shed a glance They say that its memory is fading day by day So nothing matters of what they say

For me it’s still a human, not a beast Time is relentless and repeats The pain and sorrow of watching the one you love wither away As their memories fade

Hearing daily about this beast makes me think That maybe the beasts are not real By a drink from Lethe’s waters All humans strike a deal

It could be that the beasts reside in us And that we see ourselves in the mirror Of another person’s soul That’s why we cannot stand them anymore

Note: This poem is about the difficulties that come with dementia. Sometimes being a caregiver of a person with dementia or any other illness can be hard. Depending on where you live, you may be able to get different kinds of assistance for the person you’re caring for and for yourself. Caregivers’ burnout is real, but it shouldn’t be an excuse for mistreating others.