Unravelling Time (For my mother lost to Alzheimers) The knot that holds all my days together is coming unravelled and all the roads I have travelled are separating, dispersing and fading into forgotten days; and all the ways of remembering are dismembering themselves like limbs lost in an accident, scattering across the landscape of a forgetful mind. I wonder if the transition into oblivion will be painless. Will I know how to go “gentle into that goodnight” and slow the pace, concede the race allowing amnesia to be my blanket? Or will I fight, as the poet directed, for a reprieve, for more days to learn new ways to build a wall and forestall the unwanted invasion of my wandering senses. It will be a prison without walls or wardens yet when I am finally lost I will still be me. Until then, I will be my own gatekeeper while I am still free - and I can dream of better days.
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