On My Father’s Dementia
By Daniel Marcou
his mind has holes
i reach into each
feeling my way
through the darkness
of memories dimmed
wondering
what i will grasp
that he can’t
anymore
his mind has holes
yet his heart is full
beating with
each breath
like a clock
ticking the days
away
there is no future
there is no past
there is just
what there is
and even the present
doesn’t
make sense
anymore
his mind has holes
i reach inside them
with the hope
of finding
my father
not for me
or my family
but to give
him
himself
again
his mind has holes
and through them
he journeys
in a circle
from obsession
to paranoia
and back again
his mind has holes
he waits
in a cerebral bread line
hungry for memories
starving for stories
his mind has holes
what was once whole
is now hole after hole
if only they
were truly empty
and not
so full
of confusion