Thursday, 16 January 2014

Misty Memories OR Inner Eye, Open All Hours


This poem first appeared in Poetry Monthly magazine (April 2007) and subsequently in my collection the same year. It was written with a friend in mind, but also for the many thousands of people diagnosed with dementia and their carers to try and give them some encouragement and help them through the early years of what is a heart-breaking condition

My friend does not know who I am now, but his friends and family know the person who is my friend is still inside the person he has become because every now and then he finds a way - if only fleetingly - through the thickening mists that is dementia to tell us so.


MISTY MEMORIES or INNER EYE, OPEN ALL HOURS

Let love be painting pictures on the heart
for the soul’s grasp forever to retain,
so the mind’s eye, less clear than at the start
and peering through mist, may enjoy again

Though memory’s jigsaw may fall apart,
fitting its pieces, we make wrong choices,
the mind’s ear, if less clear than at the start,
is still listening out, hears love’s voices

Our finer senses, heart and soul shall hone,
if seen to work in mysterious ways,
so Memory, though fair stripped to the bone,
to the inner self stay true all our days

Though love but shadows in a timeless mist,
take heart, all whom its poetry has kissed



[From: Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

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