Someone has stolen my mother,
She's not who she used to be.
Lost in person, space and time,
Confused and elderly.
Someone has stolen my mother,
She just isn't there anymore.
The vacant look behind her eyes,
Betrays that inner fear.
Someone has stolen my mother,
But sometimes there are better days.
When she realises (or pretends),
That she knows what is going on.
Someone has stolen my mother,
But I can handle it for now.
Until the day she forgets my name,
Doesn't know my face.
Someone has stolen my mother,
They keep doing it, you see?
Before, they took my Grandma,
One day it might be me.
Barry Alexander
Doha
December 2014
YOU ARE READING
Coalescence
PoesiaI am attempting to branch out and free myself from the constraints imposed by the label 'war poet'. I once wrote a poem (sadly lost) which voiced my frustration at my apparent inability to write about anything other than combat and its aftermath. ...
