|
This Is Your Brain
by Bruce W Niedt
Your body does not forgive your past
the bloodstream, the dying liver,
and especially the brain.
I can hear it in your voice on the phone,
how you blur the borders of speech,
your tongue not quite meeting
the lips and teeth on time,
how you answer more slowly than expected,
half a measure behind the music,
how the logical connections dont quite mesh,
the synapses no longer knit so tightly,
the fabric of your thinking frayed,
how emotion bubbles up,
with the slightest provocation,
like side trips off a rational highway.
Now I remember why I dread to call
this is not the person I used to know,
the hair-trigger mind that could carry
a conversation without a stumble,
arguing your point with switchback ferocity.
I think of that old anti-drug commercial,
with the metaphor egg in a frying pan.
The analogy isnt far off.
Perhaps the brain can indeed overheat,
harden and congeal. I do know yours
will never again be fresh
in the fragile shell of your skull.
12/08/2004 Posted on 12/08/2004
Copyright © 2026 Bruce W Niedt
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Mary Ellen Smith on 12/09/04 at 02:53 PM Me too, I recognize this as well. My dad died of this...but at the end he was saved by the grace of the Lord and was singing hymns in his slurred, unintelligible speech....there is always hope. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 12/11/04 at 10:00 PM Part of the tragedy of growing old is to see great minds around us, once lucid, responsively sharp as a razor, slowly dwindle away. Well expressed Bruce. Wish I had written this...glad you did. |
| Posted by Charles E Minshall on 12/12/04 at 06:08 AM Well said Bruce. I went through this with my grandmother who lived with us into her ninetys.
At the last she didn't know who I was. It is
a sad thing to see happen....Charlie |
|
