A poem by Janell - this one came to me several years ago as I was watching my mother lose her memories one by one to Alzheimers.
It’s getting awfully quiet all alone inside my mind.
The most elusive penny for the thought I cannot find.
Exaggeration, trepidation, trembling painful stand
The one and only fragment of my heart lies in my hand.
Dodging bullets, chasing demons, crawling ‘neath the line of fire
Reaching out for missing angels, watch them burn upon the pyre.
Is that why it’s so quiet here, where stories used to flow?
Did the demons steal my angels? Where’d all my good stuff go?
I’ve chased away the burning shame, I’ve finally won the fight.
A pile of ash is that’s left, there is no other light.