Grandma Poem by Jessica Bentson

To us her memory is skewed, the pages are all sketched
in black and white and grey
with a sharp number 2 they are etched.

They are torn and tattered, smudged and blurred
whited out and black-marked
every other word.

Her chapters out of order with no foundation to be understood
now she asks you to see through her glasses
just for a moment if you would?

Hesitant as you may be
the invitation in to her delusional world
just may have struck a nerve to your curiosity.

You carefully lift the bifocals to your skeptical eyes
ready to defend yourself with logic and reason to her lies.
Your pupils adjust. Oh, what is this you see? As you turn the first page,
magnificent colors to your surprise.

Everything is clear and bright
perfectly in order
abundant and full of life.

Her pages are all neatly marked
on this journey through the mind
you chose to embark.

You note her writings in fine detail
this once pronounced mess
her consistency ceases to fail.

You come to find her reality is from her heart, as true as a politician
you may think,
but true nonetheless,
you start to wonder if you may be the one who needs a shrink!

Now you remove the glasses, close the book completing the final chapter
'to be continued' it said
you can't help but sigh as you hear her silent laughter.

Back to the real world you go
never the same
something has touched your soul.

How does one learn acceptance of her passive aggressive existence
When naturally our legs move us to run from such indifference?

When I find the answer, I promise to let you know
'To be continued' I say
on my path to look for answers I go...