“The end of life is like a stage under red cliffs, except I’m absent”, he said, his words a mere gasp, his watery blue eyes staring nowhere. “Who’s the cowboy”, I asked? I was curious about the reference. “Just some clown”, he whispered, and then repeated, “just some clown”.
I saw a mirror of my heart, it lay in a basket, underneath the red cliffs above the arid floor. While all around me flew the dust of time, and I thought what was this meme meant for? Far above on the ridge there was a cowboy, and he rode like a concrete stick toward the dawn. And when he glanced beyond the red cliffs, he smiled, like he knew the devil owned the door.
There are times in this life when I feel absent, and those times it seems to me come more and more. While I long for more attraction, that place of being, I knew before. I know it seems like this is one big paradox, forever clinging to aloneness like it’s a shore.
For all around me minutes are passing, racing through my empty soul to reach its core. And the red cliffs up above they seem cerebral, like a dying brain, can’t crumble anymore.
And absentia whirls around me, while I’m still breathing, and it curses anyone, who laughs or is a bore. While the red cliffs shudder above my skinny frame, till I can’t remember how to breathe no more. And those ridges up above, where that cowboy rides with no love, turn too steep to attempt to climb anymore.
For my mind births desolation, in it, prions come to feed, and when they jump for the last time, my contractions give pause to disaffect. Under these red cliffs I see no reason, such bitterness, no content, and when I look upon that ridge one more time, no cowboy rides, just emptiness.
And then here I go, in a sunset glow, just laughter everywhere, red cliffs they disappear, and up and down, my lungs so full of oxygen, my breath, and absentia here I go, over the ridge to find my soul.
This is written for the absent, with minds consumed by Alzheimer’s, Dementia, or like my own dear father, with the watery blue eyes, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. May they find their soul over that last ridge. – 08.10.2016 – דָּנִיֵּאל
Beautiful, sad, and so memorable Daniel. You continue to astound me with your gift of writing.
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Thank you for continuing to read my stuff Ruby. I really appreciate the comment. 🙂
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Anytime Daniel! Every time your name pops up on my notification, I get excited, about what I am about to read.
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So deep and sad. I am so sorry about your father Daniel.
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Thank you Natalie, he passed away in 2000. I often think about the last six months of his life, and the memory degeneration. Thank you for reading and commenting.
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It’s wonderful to have had that time with him. This is a lovely tribute.
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This brought tears to my eyes. A lovely tribute to those who forget as they pass on.
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Thank you Heather.
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❤ this!
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Thank you Jane.
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A poignant piece, the caretakers of those with the loss of memory as they go can take heart from. Beautifully written Daniel.
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The caretakers are the valiant, and IMHO deserve our greatest respect. Thank you for your comment Brooke.
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I could not agree more!
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Daniel this is a favorite, so many wonderful lines but perhaps my favorite, “For all around me minutes are passing, racing through my empty soul to reach its core. ” This was astounding!
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Thank you Ruthann, for your kind words.
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This was fabulous Daniel! ❤
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Thank you Heather, I am happy you enjoyed it.
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You have documented from the other side what the individual suffering with memory loss deals with.
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Thank you Tansy, for a great compliment.
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Written so well Daniel. What a moving tribute to your Father and so many others that suffer with dementia.
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Thank you Tabitha.
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I loved this, and felt it. Each word, had such emotion dwelling in it.
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Thank you so much for reading and your comment.
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Again, you have moved me Daniel with one of your well thought out pieces. very well done!
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Thank you Wang, your compliment means a lot to me.
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This was well written. The mind always is searching for the soul, even after both have disappeared.
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I agree. Thank you for your thought provoking comment.
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A good deal of your writing makes me think, this piece was wonderful!
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