My mother, looks vague
as we gather around her bed.
My sons, my grandchildren, my daughter-in-law
trying to make conversation
that doesn’t completely exclude her,
though she’s deaf and has dementia.
We struggle.
I consider her birdlike limbs.
She looks at me deeply puzzled.
She doesn’t know who I am.
Isaac her gentle carer
holds a drink to her lips,
stroking back her hair,
that inadequate cap to her skull.
He’s asking her how she feels.
‘Exactly the same’, she says
‘Exactly the same?’ he asks.
‘Exactly the same’ she says
‘As I was ten minutes ago
When everyone in here asked.’
We all laugh.
I see a diamond glint in her eyes,
a humourous flash of cunning.
She’s enjoying herself.
Ninety-five years old,
Flirting with Isaac
Teasing, smiling, still winning.
© A.Chakir 2023
Todays prompt was to use laughter and the juxtaposition between grief and joy, sorrow and reprieve.
The Dreaming Path 