Today I took part in two ZOOM meetings with friends from the DEEP underworld. Loads of stuff came up, sad and bad, so I have tried to combine them into a poem. Not a great piece of literature, but some thoughts.

Let us sit on the ground and talk of the deaths of friends
While we knit square huggings for those we miss
And mourn those who find they cannot go on.
We meet by courtesy of some foreign land
We inhabit nowhere we know
We are shadows trying to avoid the darkness
Of closed doors and lost touch
We learn to cook and carve new things
To paint the faces of people we miss
We say hello to Siri
And goodnight to Alexa
Our lives are jigsaws
Put away for these dark days when
We have to construct the light
That illuminates our days
We piece each day together
Tell jokes, play songs
Plant seeds, take our walks
And forget the darkness elsewhere.
Because we are not there.
We cannot be everywhere, just here
Here and now, keeping our balance
Listening, talking, sharing, scaring
Occasionally, for good measure
Our poems cheer us into another round of greetings
Anon and his gentil cock
Wordsworth on London Bridge
Sumer is icumen in
But for now we lie, half awake, half dreaming
Waiting to see if our clock is about to stop
Waiting for the warming sun to rise on us again
Waiting to pass into a new land
The same but profoundly different

Poignant and provocative 💜
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Wonderful poem george, you are the poet laureate for dementia.
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Awesome
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