Seeking Self
Seeking Self. Inspired by a news item of a missing woman. The “last seen” was a security camera footage of her in a convenience store. I thought she looked lost. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was suffering with Alzheimer’s.
The symptoms appeared familiar.
I also thought that sometimes, we lose track of our true selves. And many of us do worry about sinking into dementia. Some such lost people as the lady on the news never do come back.
This is for all such people, still struggling, and in memory of.
Old lady seeking
Sometimes we lose ourselves
Sometimes in concentration,
Times when we forget our world
So fully immersed are we in our present.
Sometimes the self escapes
Through no fault of our own
And we are left a wandering,
For there is no more present.
The thin, lonely lady wandered into the convenience store
And prowled the aisles, seeking…she knew not what.
The clerk asked her, “Are you all right, Ma’am?”
And the vacant eyes stared back. “Oh yes,”
She replied in a thin, vaporous voice.
And then she wandered outside, and faded into the streetscape.
Her family was frantic. Her husband spilled tears
On television, pleading for her safe return.
But no one responded. The thin, wispy lady
Seeking something had disappeared.
Her children were distraught for the grief that was wrought
By her vanishing act.
The news media speculated. Was she ill?
Was she suffering Alzheimer’s, as so many are these days?
Did she plan to disappear? What horror was she
Trying to escape? Either way, bitter pill.
A shadowy figure floated through the suburbs
And out into the country, no one taking notice.
“Just another homeless,” some said.
“I saw nothing like,” some told the police,
And, finally, the police had to give up the search.
Deep in the little forest of alders and birch and pine
Lay a solitary stick figure, a smile on her face,
Clutching a ghostly form in her arms.
The quiet humming came from her parched lips.
“I have found you,” she whispered, over and over,
“I have found you. I am happy now.”
When the rescuers stumbled upon her sad form,
They opened the ghostly form of a bag she was holding.
And they found her Self. Her search was successful.
They nursed her to the hospital, where she made
“a successful recovery,” and returned her
To her welcoming family.
She lived out her life, always clutching her Self,
And humming, “Welcome home, my dear.”
Forge me not…
CREDITS: Umbrella picture – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Forgotten_umbrella.jpg
Shadow on wall – Clip Art The Slow Forget. In Color. The Slow Forget.
cropped-wall-239256_1280resize.jpg
Forget-me-nots – Public Domain: https://pixabay.com/en/forget-me-not-1365858/
