Damned Diana

A young woman leans down to kiss the head
Of a gray and haggard lady.
She gives her a hug, and pats her back,
And hands her a magazine.
“How ya doin’ today?” she asks.
“Fine,” the older woman says blankly,
And stares at some distant time.

“What's that damned Diana been up to?”
The older woman mutters angrily.
The younger woman pauses,
Then says, “I don’t know. You tell me.”
The older woman launches in
On a suspicious diatribe,
While the younger one listens intently
To what she's never heard before.

Finally finished, the younger one says,

“Diana loves you, Mama.
She never thought you would take it that way.
She meant all of that for your good.”


Then attendants come to wheel away

The older woman, suddenly.
“It's time for her shower,” they tell the other one flatly.
The young woman sits and sighs a sigh, of bitter comprehension,
Finally understanding a rift that happened so many years before.
“Thank you, Alzheimer’s,” she says to herself,

“For setting her free to speak her peace...”
And the aides whisper, “See you tomorrow, Diana.”

-jenn long