My heart breaks
for my grandmother
she is old
she is ill
Her memory is
fading
Along with what
seems to be the
scraps left
of her sanity.
Walking is difficult
eating is difficult
living is difficult.
Though she spites
me with bitter
words full of rancor,
I must forgive her.
For she knows not
what she says.
My heart breaks
for my grandmother
because I am short
with her.
My temper is hot.
But she knows not
what she says.
How awful it must be
to watch the line
between reality and
fantasy begin to blur.
I must forgive her
for she knows not
what she says.
My heart breaks
for my grandmother.