by Mark Applegate
The sun, freezing hot, sprints slowly to the far horizon
Winter’s flash in the pan day is here.
Pre-grief stabs at me like Poseidon
His black hole trident gores before the sun can disappear.
The celestial orb, as predictable as death and taxes
We circle in steady ellipses
Complaining about time, if you ask us
Fickle and spoiled, we change our wants like bead-braided gypsies
At the same time, we want time to hurry and then to slow
Hoping for a cure, but seeing none
Dread the day, then ask “Where did it go?
In dementia’s web, our unalive, alive loved one spun.
The hours, days, months, and seasons come and go like the tides
We want joy for them, we want relief
Memories of them shred our insides
As everything that once brought joy is taken by this thief.
On this solstice remember the contrasting length of days
Long ones are harder for them, not us.
Short ones are where the gemstone displays
Countless joy we got to find hidden amongst all the fuss.
Remember to find the caregiving joy in the long and short days, friends. The longer you are in this mess, the more you will realize what you have missed. Soak in every day as we circle this sun…