Alzheimer's

The flight departs
A little late, and the
Enveloping darkness
Of the winter nightfall
Descends and the plane
Lifts up and up and up.

At programmed intervals
Lights flash on the wings-
The staccato of the wands
On the wing's fin, first, then
The rose-colored throb,
Leaving its afterglow
On the leading edge of the wing-
Like a semaphore we can't read,
Undecipherable, but steady,
Reassuring as a heartbeat.

Below, the jeweled lights of
What passes for civilization-
Or only our collective longing
To pierce the descending dark-
Lie out of touch, out of reach,
But beautiful to look at,
Satisfying, bringing to mind
Images like snapshots in an album...

...her face among a sea of
          schoolmates...
...Tchaikovsky, the piano concerto,
          always music with her face...
...Sweet rich vanilla ice cream,
          melting from the dasher
          on hot Tennessee Saturdays...
...the marketplace in Jakarta
          and the hot peppers...
...the little girl with long hair,
          her hands in the stream...
...the boy painting his shoes...
...Tiananmen Square and the students...

It's all down there, coded
In those random, lightstrewnPatterns of memory.

After a time, the gray wing
Becomes an opaque lagoon
Between the moving airship
And the jeweled homeland,
Distant, familiar,
Unreachable now,
Beyond control,
Irrevocable.

Still, you know what
The jeweled lights mean.
You're still connected...
Even when we can't see you,
Even when you don't hear us,
We are all traveling on,
Destination oblivion,
And the lights are still there.

(c)Anne Meek                                            

published in Skipping Stones 2004

and in Ripples

Mindworm Press, Chesapeake, VA