His mind rattled like tectonic plates leaving
membranes floating in a fluid of confusion
with a tender Alzheimer’s he woke

His sight peers through frosted glass
flashes of light overload his optic nerves
and roars of noise echo an audible drum-line

Society now his enemy as he fears to walk
among the inept who were raised boorish
disrespectful to the ailing minority

Confined to places where time stands still
where silence enhances the high-pitched
tones that screech like a rusted gate

Discomfort flows everywhere, everyday,
flooding the contentment that once was.

I try to get him to smile but see speckles
of frustration in his eyes.

He lives
but his sanity is tainted
his spirit drained
feeling a little less mortal

© Donna J. Sanders

Excerpt from the book “Ataraxia”

http://www.ctupublishinggroup.com/donna-j.-sanders.html
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