New York City, N.Y.
Mom and Teka
Myself as a Stranger
I could have driven myself here if I’d wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
She didn’t belong here; I didn’t belong here…
We are not really here…are we?
I see strangers who look familiar,
But nothing is familiar, I am not familiar
I am a stranger.
I woke up.. or maybe I didn’t.
I am asleep when I am a wake.
I am confused when I understand,
And when I understand…I am angry
But it fades away…
Push me in my wheelchair so I can walk again.
Feed me to sustain this untenable life,
Sit with me while I absorb your tenderness and warmth,
Laugh with me…just share my silence.
I see you or maybe I don’t see you.
I might even smile or frown,
And I can still cry you know.
But you don’t know why.
I can look at you with a glare that goes right through you,
A glare that melts your soul.
And I reach to remember…I try to see you…my children
But I don’t know…you see, I am a stranger.
In my last days...with my last breath…
With what is left, now that life has drained me.
I find a special place in my heart, yes; there is a special place in the furthest,
deepest most unreachable part of my mind…where I have hidden a memory
A memory of all of you, a momentary tear-drop of memory…